


The Ghost Bride

by amandaterasu



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Amnesia, Childhood Sweethearts, Death, F/M, Ghost Marriage, Meddling Families, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Tags May Change, Underworld, life after death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:35:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24921652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amandaterasu/pseuds/amandaterasu
Summary: When a plague of natural disasters wracks the Source and its reflections, Elidibus and the Warrior of Light make a bargain to bring them to an end. He and the other Ascians will wait to attempt another Rejoining, so long as she agrees to marry Emet-Selch, despite his already being dead.Inspired by the very basic premise ofThe Ghost Bride,by Yangsze Choo. You don't need to have read it for this fic, but I recommend it if you're looking for something to read.This fic was written with theInteractiveFicsBrowser Extension in mind. If you have it, set your substitutions as follows:(Y/N) for given name.(L/N) for family name.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 16
Kudos: 128





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I found myself in need of some Serotonin, and I've been workin on this fic for a while, letting it sit in my google drive, but I keep coming back to it, again and again. Finally I decided to just publish it because I need more Emet-Selch in my life.
> 
> By the way - If you would like me to do a second publishing of this that does not use InteractiveFics for those of you who read on phones, please let me know in the comments! I'll sub in one of my WOLs for that.

(Y/N) (L/N)’s feet touched down gently on the stones near the Crystarium’s aetheryte. Despite it being midafternoon, the city was strangely silent - no passerby rushed about the markets, no guards lingered in the Exedra. The Amaro, the only living things she saw, hovered in the air uncertainly, as if holding their breath waiting for something. “Hey…” she called, softly, as if hoping to coax the creatures down from the sky. One of the larger ones looked at her, and she sensed it was, or would soon be, like Seto. An unusual intelligence glimmered behind the fathomless black, and it whickered anxiously in her direction before urging the rest of the herd higher.

That should have warned her that something was amiss, but the sudden tremor caught her off-guard as shouts and screams seemed to echo out of the halls and rooms squirreled away throughout the Crystarium’s brick and crystal mass. She staggered to keep herself upright, then watched in shock as a thin spire broke off from the Crystal Tower, tumbling end over end before it finally smashed to the paving stones below. 

“G’raha…” (Y/N) whispered, and moved. She darted toward the tower, dodging falling brick and crystal as the earthquake seemed to increase in intensity and the grout between the stones beneath her feet cracked apart. The world shifted, the ground beneath one foot rearing up as another fell away, and she wondered if some fool had resummoned the Titan she had dreamed up for Ryne deep within the Empty.

Reaching the Crystal Tower’s base she raced up the roiling steps and threw herself bodily against the door to the Ocular, banging frantically. “G’raha!” she called, worried desperately for her friend within. He was bound to the tower by some strange alchemy she did not quite understand, and every piece of blue stone that shattered on the rippling ground made her heart lurch.

She glanced back over the view of the city, biting her tongue and wondering if this was Elidibus’s work. The Crystarium was already near stripped of guards thanks to his antics in Ardbert’s flesh, the people were in an uproar, things were so unstable, and now an _earthquake?_ It seemed to be too irritating and too conveniently timed.

“There you are,” Lyna’s clipped voice called as the great doors to the tower opened behind (Y/N). “Get in, quickly.” The Warrior of Light clung to the Viera’s arm as she pulled her through the door and slammed it shut behind her. Lyna dusted her off with a small relieved smile. “Are you all right?”

_“I’m_ fine,” (Y/N) said, looking around. “But, these earthquakes? What’s going on? Is G’raha…?” 

The Guard Captain nodded. “He’s all right. Come, your friends are with the Exarch in the Ocular, discussing the situation that has so affected Norvrandt.”

“The ‘situation’ in Norvrandt,” (Y/N) said as they pushed through the next set of doors. “So this _isn’t_ an isolated incident.”

“I’m afraid not,” G’raha Tia answered for Lyna, pulling the Champion’s attention to the rest of the room. A large table had been moved to the center of the chamber with a map of Norvrandt spread out across it. All of the Scions, save Urianger, were crowded around it with looks varying from concern to relief on their faces.

“Took you long enough,” Gaia snapped.

“We’re glad you’re here,” Ryne said coolly, and the other girl looked at her shoes.

(Y/N) moved to join her friends at the table, looking down at the map. “All right, one of you needs to explain what I missed while I was on the Source.”

Alphinaud scratched the back of his neck with one hand then nudged one of the colored crystals to one side. “We don’t quite know,” he confessed. “In the last few weeks there have been an unprecedented number of natural disasters, and we fear something has gone terribly wrong.” He sighed as he looked up at his friend. “We have a few theories - one of them being that Ryne and Gaia’s work in the Empty may have destabilized some vital aether that protects the First - and Urianger has taken it upon himself to investigate.”

Looking down at the map, (Y/N) swallowed in a vain attempt to stave off the growing feeling of foreboding. “What _kind_ of natural disasters?” she murmured, her thoughts already flying to the Calamities that plagued the Source.

“The kind you’re thinking of, but not on the scale that would cause a Rejoining,” G’raha Tia said, offering her a small sandwich wrapped in a cotton handkerchief. She took it and ate without complaint while he continued. “Earthquakes in Lakeland, Flooding throughout Rak’tika, wildfires erupting in Kholusia, tornadoes across Amh Araeng, and terrible thunderstorms in Il Mheg.”

Y’shtola nodded her agreement as (Y/N) studied the map and said, “They started as little more than minor inconveniences but are quickly growing in strength. We had hoped to find some answer before we sent for you, but -”

The doors at the back of the room opened to admit Urianger, whose face was unusually haggard as he ran a hand through his silvery hair. “I hath found the answer we seek,” he said, “And I fear it is neither pleasant nor simple. If thou wilt permit me, I can explain but…” he trailed off and glanced back toward the door. “There is one to whom I would defer the explanation, if thou wilt offer thy forbearance in regards to his presence, and consent to meet with him upon neutral ground.” 

“Who is it?” Thancred said, but the ashen pallor to his skin implied he already had a good idea.

Urianger sighed heavily. “Elidibus, the Emissary.”

* * *

“Do you have the auracite?” (Y/N) asked as they entered the caves in the Qitana Ravel.

“I do, my lady,” Urianger replied, passing the crystal to her outstretched hand. “Though I find myself compelled to remind thee that we are merely here to parley with the Ascian. We will receive no answers from him once he has passed beyond this life.”

“I know,” she replied, glancing towards the others who walked in silence with her. “But I do not trust him not to be pulling some kind of trick.”

Y’shtola nodded in agreement. “Chicanery is something of an Ascian’s _raison d’être,_ as it were.” She pressed her hand against (Y/N)’s back. “Do not forget that we are here with you.”

“I won’t,” she replied, and gave her friend a nod before taking her place amongst the murals that depicted ancient Amaurot - the meeting place the Emissary had requested.

To say the atmosphere in the cave was _tense_ would be like saying an Ishgardian winter was _‘a little cool;’_ a gross understatement. (Y/N)’s chin lifted at the sound of footsteps coming through the far tunnel and she clutched the auracite tightly… but even now, her heart betrayed her. Some distant, quiet part of her mind remembered the last time she was here, sunlight filtering between the roots and stones above, when _he_ had come to speak with her.

Emet-Selch, his life and death, had cast a long shadow over her in the months since she had slain him. Their brief time together on the First - the flirtation and fighting, the hope and the heartbreak - for the first time she could remember, she felt _alive,_ waiting in breathless anticipation for the next time she would see him. 

Then she had killed him, for that was the only way to save the Source. If any other way, even the smallest glimmer of a _chance_ had presented itself, (Y/N) would have chased it down with the same wild abandon that had seen her carrying on against the Lightwardens despite the real threat their Light posed to her very self.

Even here, _knowing_ it would not be Emet-Selch stepping out of the shadows, she still hoped. What for? Not even (Y/N) could tell you. But none of that mattered to the barely restrained sob of disappointment when Ardbert’s form appeared on the far side of the cave, clad in the white robes Elidibus was so fond of.

Behind her, Thancred made a sound, and (Y/N) glanced back to see his face twisted in a hateful grimace. After the Hyur’s run in with Lahabrea a few years back, no one could really blame him.

Elidibus’s eyes swept across their number, lingering for a few moments on the Warrior of Light. To her surprise, he bowed most formally, with the same level of respect Emet-Selch had shown her. “Good afternoon, my lady.”

(Y/N) glanced at Urianger dubiously before she spoke. “My friend tells me you know the cause of these strange natural disasters and how to stop them.” She would not waste time with formality and equivocation.

“I do,” he confirmed. “Master Augurelt has asked me to reveal to you their nature, but in doing so I find I must linger upon some seemingly unrelated topics. If you will permit me?”

Urianger closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose before meeting (Y/N)’s gaze and giving a short nod.

“Fine.” Her voice was sharp. “Let’s hear it.”

The Emissary bowed again. “As you know from your travels with Emet-Selch, he and I were of the same culture - Amaurotine. That culture was in many ways, quite similar to those you may be familiar with. We had marriages, births, deaths, rituals, traditions…” The young Leveilleur girl, Alisaie, began to drum her fingers on the hilt of her rapier impatiently. “Right.” The Ascian said. “Well. One of our most important traditions was that when one passed into the Underworld, you could not move on and be reborn until your soul was judged. And for a soul to be judged, they must present themselves, _along with their spouse_ , to the Courts of the Dead. Normally, when one dies, they merely wait for their spouse to join them, and then proceed. Lahabrea’s wife was dead, so he moved on without issue when they were reunited. My dearest wife is dead, and so when my time comes, I needn’t worry, and she and I will proceed together as well.”

“Get to the point,” Thancred called, his voice echoing off the stones. 

With a sigh, Elidibus said, “Emet-Selch had no wife. Not amongst the Amaurotines.” Here, his eyes flickered momentarily towards (Y/N). “He had many wives _after_ Hydaelyn’s Sundering, of course, but as none of those were Amaurotine marriages, they do not count as far as the Courts of the Dead are concerned. And as he was very powerful when it came to magicks relating to the soul and the Underworld, well…” To her surprise, the Ascian seemed almost discomfited, and he ran a clawed and gloved hand through Ardbert’s cropped brown hair. “He has destabilized the Lifestream of Amaurot, and thus the Source and its reflections, causing increasing natural disasters until he gets his way.”

“But there was no report of disasters like _these_ on the Source,” (Y/N) argued. “Everything was fine when I left?”

“Was it?” He seemed genuinely curious.

“I… well, there were a few issues. But nothing like these disasters,” she admitted.

“Time flows differently between the Source and its reflections,” Elidibus reminded her. “What was only a few days for you would be a few weeks or more here, or vice versa. I am quite sure that if you were to return to the Source you may find things unravelling quickly there as well, unless we can find a way to sate the Architect.”

“Given your earlier line of digression,” Alphinaud said, “I doubt we are going to _like_ your suggestion for how to ‘sate’ him.”

“Indeed,” the Emissary said. “He would like me to provide a wife for him, so that he might move on when she shuffles free of the mortal coil. Thus I have come seeking your aid.”

“And how are we supposed to aid with _that?”_ Alisaie asked incredulously. “He’s dead. Not like we can dig up his bones, throw them in a suit, and take him to the Sanctum of the Twelve.”

“No,” Elidibus agreed, “but our people did have protocols for this. We would need to find a willing partner, and have her agree to enter into a ‘ghost marriage’ with him.”

“What exactly does one of these ‘ghost marriages’ entail?” Ryne asked, chewing her lip.

Elidibus sighed. “The woman who accepted the role could not marry in life. She would be treated as a widow, at least if she lived in Amaurot. She would go through a simple ritual, that I would happily assist with, and may occasionally dream of him. The rub comes in that, she would have to go into it willingly, with full knowledge of what that would mean in the Underworld.” His expression could only be described as pained. “The couple’s souls are weighed as a unit. Thus, she would be condemning herself to whatever afterlife was chosen for the Founding Father of numerous Imperialist Empires, an Ascian who oversaw seven successful Rejoinings, and one of the Creators of Zodiark Himself. Beyond that, she could never marry nor take lovers in the living world, holding herself faithful to her husband and his memory.”

“So she’d have to accept she’d be going to some kind of hell, and face that life _alone._ That’s what you’re saying,” Thancred frowned darkly and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes,” Elidibus replied. “Though Emet-Selch most likely cares not a whit for going to a ‘hell’, as you put it; given his unique abilities, if he had no care for his bride he would probably abandon her there. Unless it was someone he had expressed care for,” and here both he and Urianger turned toward the Warrior of Light. “Unless her actions were truly good enough to render it a balance. If she had done enough good to equal the evil he had committed in his life.”

“Absolutely not,” Y’shtola said, stepping forward and putting an arm between (Y/N) and the Ascian. “She has done enough - _given_ enough - for this world, and she slew him in fair combat. Find some other if you must. Dig up Igeyorhm’s bones and have her do it or some such rubbish.”

“(Y/N),” Elidibus’s voice was strained. “Please. We may have our differences, and be on opposite sides of this war between Zodiark and Hydaelyn, but if this does not stop there will be nothing and no one left for either of Them to save, by your definition or ours.”

She said nothing while they argued around her, her heart and mind latching onto the stray words and implications Elidibus had said. Doing this, she would see him again, if only once. Was it worth it? To give up finding someone here for a man who had indulged in a little idle flirtation with an avowed enemy? To see him for maybe a few scant heartbeats before he abandoned her in a torment she had no context for until she could find her way free or the Lifestream reincarnated her? 

It was Thancred, blessed Thancred, who had been with her in the beginning, in Ul’dah. Thancred, who had been her staunchest ally when all seemed lost. Thancred, who had been the one to shatter that dark prison Emet-Selch had trapped her in with naught but a gunblade and a piece of auracite. Thancred, who had the most experience with the horrors an Ascian could wreak, who said, “What will you give her for it?”

* * *

The Scions spent weeks arguing and investigating. It gave her some inkling of what they must have put themselves through while she slept, near-consumed with Light, as they now hurried to save her from a different kind of fate. 

(Y/N) returned to the Source, and found Elidibus’s predictions had come quite true. Great typhoons wracked Limsa Lominsa while a forest fire ripped through the Shroud. It seemed everywhere she turned, another disaster beset those she loved. And in every quiet moment, in the corner of her eye she saw the Emissary, waiting for her to choose.

Through it all, (Y/N) wore mourning. To funerals in Ishgard, for those caught in deadly blizzards. To cremations in Ul’dah, as the stones moved like turbulent waves and left broken bodies amongst the ill-defended Ala Mhigan refugees who had chosen not to return to the city. 

What hurt her the most was returning to Rak’tika, and the way Y’shtola tried to prevent her from seeing how many stones were at the bottom of Runar’s dark pool.

“We can’t keep doing this, my friend,” (Y/N) said, touching Y’shtola’s cheek. “How are we any better than the Ascians, if we allow a thousand nameless dead to take precedence over the inconvenience of one person?”

“This isn’t just your inconvenience,” the Miqo’te hissed. “It’s everything. It’s… eternity. It’s -”

“My choice, in the end.” 

Y’shtola had no argument for that, so instead she slapped the Warrior of Light hard across the face. “What happened to you?” she demanded. “Ever since he died you have been…” Raising the offending hand to her lips, her unseeing eyes widened in comprehension. 

(Y/N) said nothing, but Y’shtola hugged her close. “I’m sorry,” she said. “We didn’t know. We didn’t -”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Champion said, returning the embrace. “I would have ended up in this predicament, even if he had lived, I fear. Or he’d have proven himself the devilish bastard he seemed and I’d have nothing more than a bruised ego and a wild story.”

“Do you think Elidibus will honor his offer?”

“To stop the Calamities and Rejoinings for the rest of my life?” she laughed. “Of course. What’s a century to an Ascian? We can only hope that another Warrior of Light rises to take my place ere long.”

Y’shtola dug her nails into (Y/N)’s skin. “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that. No one can take your place. But if this is the path you would walk, then I will not stop you any longer. I’ll support you as far as I am able.”

And she did, truly, when the others objected and argued, trying to get (Y/N) to “see reason” and not go through with this latest Ascian plot. One by one, their arguments were silenced in the face of a truth none of them could deny - they had no other option when it came to saving the inhabitants of the Source and its reflections, just as they had no other option when it had come to saving her from the Light.

And so she found herself, clad in voluminous white robes and a white mask, kneeling before a rectangular piece of black marble just light enough to be carried in her arms amidst the ruins of Ancient Amaurot where she had ended Emet-Selch only a few months before. The Echo granted her the gift of tongues; thus she could read the words Elidibus had inscribed on the tablet:

Hades  
Emet-Selch  
The Architect

Ample space lay below his names, and she eyed the pot of white paint and calligraphy brush before her dubiously while Elidibus poured a cup of tea and set it in her hands. “The ritual is rather simple. I will be acting in lieu of Emet-Selch’s family, and the tablet itself will serve in his stead. If this were back before the Final Days, there would be much more pomp and ceremony. But somehow I suspect that your friends would not appreciate the pageantry.”

“Nor would I,” she replied. “What should I do first?”

“Wait,” he began, then snapped his head to the side as a chorus of low tones heralded the arrival of six more figures, robed in black with red masks. Elidibus stood abruptly. “I thought I told you lot not to interfere,” he hissed. 

Thancred’s gunblade was in his hand, but one of the newcomers, speaking in dulcet tones with a feminine voice said, “Emet-Selch was one of us. We are here to celebrate his union and pay appropriate homage to his bride. Nothing more, nothing less.”

The Emissary turned to (Y/N). “It is your choice whether or not they remain. It is _your_ wedding.”

After a few moments of thought, she turned to the Scions. “They may stay. I have chosen this path; I will not walk it with regret and contention.”

“But the moment you have passed on, they will start attempting the Rejoinings again!” Alisaie said.

“Yes,” (Y/N) agreed. “But Twelve willing that won’t be for a long while yet, and you can use that time to prepare.”

“Who is to say they will not slay you the moment the ceremony is complete?” Alphinaud countered.

“Do you remember nothing of Emet-Selch?” she asked. “Elidibus has already made clear that the Architect will rip his way out of the land of the dead the moment I die. Even if he thinks little of me, do you think he would tolerate such disrespect to _himself_ from the other Ascians? It wouldn’t matter who I was, they had killed _his_ wife.” (Y/N) turned back to the tablet. “Besides, what is a century to the eternal?”

Ryne started to argue, but Gaia put a hand on her shoulder and shook her head. 

“So, Emissary, What should I do first?”

* * *

Emet-Selch woke from his slumber to the sound of whispers and murmuring coming from his parlor. All-in-all, this afterlife wasn’t so bad. It was just _boring_. All the Amaurotines had either moved on, or were waiting for spouses that would never come. He didn’t have the heart to tell them that Zodiark had failed. That the little cult had managed to summon up a Goddess and destroy all they had given their lives for. This interim Limbo they lived in was an even better replica of Amaurot than what he had managed to make on the First. Mostly because the shades were now actually _them_. 

The whispering continued, and he grumbled as he climbed out of bed. Had someone come to visit? The other shades mostly left him alone, save his mother, as he was unmarried and a member of the Convocation. They knew he valued his solitude and privacy. 

On his way to the door, he glanced towards the funeral tablet that sat in a small corner, and froze. Sitting in front of it was a cup of tea, half-empty. Emet-Selch chuckled in delight and picked it up. It was simple porcelain, and there was the barest brush of lipstick along one edge - a soft rose blush that marred the otherwise glossy white perfection.

“Well, well, well, Elidibus,” he said. “I wonder who you’ve found for me. Some idiot girl who’d trade her soul for money? Power? A lifetime of luxury?” He knocked back the remains of the tea, and held the cup between two fingers, waiting for the rest of the tablet to fill in. Though it took a few minutes, the words did appear.

(Y/N) (L/N)  
The Warrior of Light  
Hydaelyn’s Chosen

The lipstick-stained porcelain shattered on the hardwood floor. “Zodiark _damn_ you, Elidibus,” he hissed. “I told you I would take anyone. Anyone but _her.”_

* * *

“So…” (Y/N) said, once the words were inscribed on the tablet. “That’s it?”

“Yes,” Elidibus exhaled slowly. “Rather anticlimactic, I’m afraid.” He chuckled. “Well, for the ceremony at least. As the Architect’s wife, there are things that are now your property, and I believe your guests wish to pay their respects and present gifts.”

“Gifts?” she asked in confusion and leaned away from him warily.

He shook his head. “I do not think you realize the magnitude of the favor you have done for both us and the people of your shards. We Ascians have no quarrel with you now. You are the widow of one of our dearest friends, and as such are under the protection of every member of the Convocation.” The other Ascians nodded their agreement.

“And the Rejoining?” Thancred growled.

“-will be delayed until she has died.” Elidibus finished. “We are content to wait out of respect for her, and Emet-Selch would never forgive us if we caused his wife undue stress.” He stood, and offered (Y/N) his hand. “Come, I will take you to your new home.”

“My new home?” she asked, taking his hand and standing.

Alisaie frowned. “You don’t have to live there, or even call it home.”

The Ascian nodded. “Of course you don’t, but you are entitled to it, should you so wish. It was _his_ home in ancient Amaurot, and it was recreated here. It is also the best place for you to keep the tablet, far from prying eyes or your adventures.”

“You don’t have to go with him,” Ryne insisted.

(Y/N) sighed. “I don’t, but I have chosen to do this, so I will do it completely. The Shards have so many problems that aren’t Ascians, that I will take what help and allies where I can, even those I would have once considered enemies.”

“But they just said that they will continue the Calamities after you die!” Alisaie interjected.

“And, Hydaelyn willing, a new Warrior of Light will rise to take my place.” The girl took a step back, shocked as (Y/N) turned back to Elidibus. She was tired of all of this, so _painfully_ tired. “Let’s go.”

“But-” Alisaie began as they walked away.

Urianger placed a hand on her shoulder and sighed. “Child, our dearest friend hath made a great sacrifice for all of us. It is not anyone alive’s place to deny her what comforts that sacrifice might entail.” He rubbed the top of her head affectionately, like he had when she was a child and he still studied under Louisoix. “Thou art young, yet, and knoweth not what sacrifices are made by others every day for the future. This is the largest she hath made, aye, but one of many.”

Y’shtola nodded in agreement. “We are her friends, and will not abandon her or judge her for what comes after. Do you hear me?” She eyed Thancred where he nursed his own hurts behind Urianger. 

The man’s response was a swift nod and sheathing his gunblade. “Come, we have work to do. Who’s keeping first watch?”

“Watch?” Ryne asked. “For what?”

“For Ascian chicanery,” Y’shtola replied, and winked at the girl. “You didn’t think we would leave her to whatever madness the Ascians might have planned, did you?”

* * *

(Y/N) took the aetheryte to the more peaceful echo of Amaurot Emet-Selch - her _husband_ \- had built, and the other Ascians met her there. The building they led her to was large and imposing, a few blocks from the Central Tower, but made fatiguing by the distances the larger Amaurotines had considered normal. Elidibus remained silent beside her as she walked, though she sensed the shades they passed watching her with curiosity.

At the base of the building, he paused. “This tower was where most of the members of the Bureau of Architects lived. Emet-Selch, as their representative on the Convocation, has the penthouse.” She looked up at the building, but from this angle it was too tall to get a look at her new home from the street; it was just a cacophony of stone and glowing windows, but something in it seemed familiar, and her feet moved of their own accord up the steps to the entrance.

As she reached out toward the door, a voice chimed, “(Y/N) (L/N) recognized. Congratulations on your marriage, Zalera, and welcome home.”

(Y/N) turned to Elidibus in shock, but he shrugged. “The doors were made by Emet-Selch, and he had talent when it came to souls. If you needed any other proof the marriage has been bound, that was it.” He stepped inside, and motioned for her to follow.

The lobby was surprisingly small, compared with the size of the building, and (Y/N) glanced around as Elidibus led her to a bank of elevators and the female Ascian who had spoken earlier looped her arm with hers. “Most of this floor is taken up by the ballroom. You are, of course, free to use it, and host parties there if you so choose. The constructs that govern this building will happily provide anything you require.” She giggled. “I am Fandaniel, by the by.”

“Fandaniel,” (Y/N) repeated. “I… don’t think I could host many parties here. It would be a little hard to bring guests.” A quiet ding preceded the elevator doors opening, revealing a surprisingly warm interior compared to the cool tones of the rest of Amaurot.

“Where would you go, Zalera?” the same voice that had answered the door chimed softly.

Fandaniel gave her an encouraging smile.

(Y/N) licked her lips. “Home,” she told the empty air. The doors slid shut, a more final end to her life before than anything previous had been.

* * *

Emet-Selch winced as the elevator in the vestibule chimed, and the doors slid open. Of course, no one was there. He knew too well what a ghost marriage was like, and while he had initially expected it to be some random woman, the fact that Elidibus had chosen _her_ made him almost fearful of the proposition.

He heard footsteps behind him, suddenly, and caught the scent of her perfume, then the signs faded. Giggling, his mother clapped her hands from the couch. “Oh, Hades, my sweet boy!” she exclaimed. “Is she finally here?”

Another murmur of voices reached his ears, and for a moment he saw the smudge of her soul, just as it had appeared when they had been together in Amaurot. 

What cruelty this was, for the living to haunt the dead.


	2. Return to Amaurot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Y/N) and Emet-Selch haunt each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys like the direction this is going in.

“It is my distinct pleasure to formally introduce the other Ascians, (Y/N),” Elidibus said. “I believe you’ve already spoken a bit with Fandaniel, the Protector. She oversaw the military arm of Amaurot before the Final Days.”

The feminine Ascian smiled warmly and bowed, her mark appeared before her face, outlining her eyes with an over emphasized frame and curving down before her cheeks with a strange fleur-de-lis hovering before her nose. “After Igeyorhm’s loss, I am so pleased to have another woman to talk to,” she said.

(Y/N) smiled as best she could, but she could sense _something_ watching her. As Fandaniel released her hand she glanced over her shoulder towards the couches, but the room was empty. She glanced back to Elidibus, who quickly moved on to the next, an unusually tall man who seemed unusually _delighted_ to meet her.

“I should, perhaps, have introduced Deudalaphon first. In Amaurot, he was known as the Benevolent and oversaw the care and keeping of those who required aid. More importantly to the conversation at hand, in that ancient world he was your father.” Elidibus patted his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I don’t remember you,” she said, and found her words were honest. Some context would make her feel better about all this. “I hope I wasn’t too much of a disappointment back in Amaurot.” She knew better than to ask about _this_ life.

Deudalaphon smiled. “You could never be a disappointment. I only remember parts and pieces of Amaurot, having been raised anew after being shattered, but from what I do remember you were a delight. What Emet-Selch did to you was -”

Elidibus cleared his throat. “I think that’s a conversation not to be had in the middle of a party,” he said. “And I think it’s for those of us who remember the whole of it to explain.”

“Aah,” he nodded in understanding. “Forgive me, Zalera.”

“It’s all right,” she squeezed his hand. “Better to find out the father I don’t remember cares about me than the alternatives.” 

The Emissary nodded and nudged her gently towards the Ascian. “Pashtarot,” he said, offering his hand before Elidibus could make a formal introduction. “Knight-Star, Master Astronomer, Head of the Bureau of Navigators.” (Y/N) shook his hand formally. “Don’t let Elidibus get to you, and ignore Nabriales’s brooding. He’s only been recently elevated again, and apparently has a sore spot over what happened.”

“I’m just _saying,”_ an Ascian with an all-too familiar mask interjected, “It’s a bit of emotional whiplash to go from being murdered by someone who is a servant of our avowed enemy to suddenly attending her wedding reception where I’m supposed to toast to her happiness.” Nabriales snorted. “At least I can content myself that she’s going to spend the rest of her life miserable and alo-”

_“Enough,”_ Elidibus snapped. “Someone take Nabriales outside and beat him with a stick.”

“I volunteer,” (Y/N) replied and put a hand on the bag of soulstones at her hip. “I’ve got big sticks, little sticks, sharp sticks, pointy sticks -”

Fandaniel laughed like the tinkle of bells. “Oh, I like her. No wonder Emet-Selch loved this version of her.”

“He loved me?” she asked, and bit her lip almost immediately afterward. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Deudalaphon said. “I cannot speak to your relationship to the Architect when you were in Amaurot, but I can speak on Emet-Selch’s disposition while he yet lived.” Still, her Father-that-was glanced toward Elidibus for approval, which the Emissary gave with a quick nod of his head. 

“I’ll grab something to drink from the kitchen,” One of the other Ascians said before tapping the edge of his hood. “Halmarut, the Arbiter. Ran the court systems in Amaurot. We were colleagues.”

Confusion filled her face. “Wait, what?”

Elidibus nodded. “You were a… what words do they use now?”

“Solicitor,” Deudalaphon offered.

“Barrister,” Fandaniel interjected.

“Attorney,” Nabrieles said with derision.

The Emissary huffed slightly. “The term we used was _counsellor_ and your primary duty was to help a party achieve a happy resolution to a conflict so that all could continue on in mutual harmony. Not all of the citizens were as skilled in rhetoric, and would often ask another who was more eloquent to speak on their behalf. You, of course, had a special role, either born from, or the source of, your connection with Emet-Selch.”

Halmarut returned from the kitchen with a bottle and several champagne glasses. “You were Zalera, the Death Seraph. You spoke on behalf of the dead.”

“And now here I am,” she said, “married to one of them.”

_“Precisely,”_ Elidibus said, taking the bottle and opening it with a touch. The cork popped out, sailing across the room, and (Y/N) caught it reflexively.

* * *

The pop of a champagne bottle startled Emet-Selch as he paced the living room, and he turned toward it reflexively while his mother laughed. “Oh, my darling,” she patted his hair as she had when he was a child. “Are they talking about you?”

“I don’t know,” he growled. “Mother, you really should leave. The last thing I need is you hanging about when she appears.”

She shook her head. “Oh no, You made me wait _literal_ eons to welcome little Persephone to this family. I am at least going to see and speak with her before I leave. Addramelech would truly be _wroth_ with me if I didn’t report back as to her daughter’s condition.”

He licked his lips and tried to ignore the whispering that only he could hear. “I told you, they all have amnesia. She will not remember either of you.”

“You think that matters to me?” his mother scoffed. “That girl was practically a daughter to me.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “I know she was your favorite child.”

“How could she not be, when my sweet son loved her so dearly?”

* * *

“I do not care _what_ your intentions were for the First after Mitron and Loghrif’s demise,” the ghostly version of Emet-Selch said. “None of you are to approach or interfere. (Y/N) (L/N) is mine, and I will not suffer any of you to so much as look at her while I draw breath. Elidibus, keep your meddling to the Source, _thank you.”_

The message cut off and (Y/N) blinked. “When did he send that?”

“About an hour after the Crystal Exarch had pulled you across the rift,” Elidibus said quietly as Deudalaphon tapped a few times on the clear pane of glass with strange letters engraved into the surface. Every time the tip of one of his claws touched one, it flickered with dim violet light in recognition, but he moved too fast for her to track what he wrote before he put the thing away.

“That’s… he was just meddling.” Her cheeks flushed despite her protestations. That short sentence - _“(Y/N) (L/N) is mine”_ \- made her heart flutter.

“She still lacks context. And it is not our place to give it. We could explain til we were blue in the face, but it would not matter,” the Emissary said. “Come, we should focus on preparing her for the duties an Amaurotine widow must perform.”

“She deserves to know -” Fandaniel began.

“Yes,” Elidibus agreed, “But there are things I must explain _after_ you have left. And the lot of you meddling will do nothing but make her ask uncomfortable questions that are better explained by someone who was there to _witness_ things as they unfolded, and she is entitled to some privacy when it comes to her past.”

“My past?” she asked in confusion.

“The exact nature of your relationship with Emet-Selch,” he replied, passing her a glass of glittering champagne.

* * *

_“...my past?”_ (Y/N)’s voice was barely there, but close enough, if he could hear her, she might be able to hear him.

“I told you to remember,” he choked out. “Please, please, just this once, remember us.”

He did his best to blot out his mother’s laugh at his love-sick antics.

* * *

“This champagne is good,” Halmarut said. “I should have nicked it before now.”

“Petty thievery?” Fandaniel mused. “Is that any way for a counsellor to speak?”

“Why, it’s not stealing. Emet-Selch had this set aside for a special occasion. What could be more special than his wedding?”

“What is it called, anyway?” Deudalaphon asked.

_“... just this once, remember us.”_ Hades’s voice was just beside her, so close she should have felt the warmth of him. “This is Campanié,” she said abruptly.

The others turned to her, and she could sense mild surprise. “Yes,” Elidibus said to her. “How did you know?”

_”Thank you again, for bringing Y’shtola back,” (Y/N) said, standing with the Ascian beneath the boughs of the Rak’tika Greatwood. They were close enough to touch, but something she couldn’t name stayed her hand, so she lied to herself and said it was the knowledge of what he was. “I owe you a great debt.”_

_Emet-Selch waved a hand dismissively. “Please, don’t get all melancholy on me. All I ask is that you extend to me some of the trust you are so eager and willing to give other new acquaintances.”_

_“Other new acquaintances don’t bring my dearest friend back from the Lifestream,” she replied._

_He laughed, but the joy didn’t reach his eyes when he looked back at her. “Very well. If you must repay me, then I request that after this is all over - after you’ve saved another world and all your bosom companions - that you join me in my home for a drink.”_

_“A drink?” (Y/N) raised an eyebrow in surprise._

_The Ascian nodded. “Yes. I’ve been sitting on a bottle of Campanié since the dawn of time, waiting for someone to share it with.” His face softened a little when he smiled. “It might as well be you.”_

“I was supposed to drink it with him,” she murmured, still staring at the glass.

Deudalaphon and Elidibus exchanged a look. “Mayhaps you should teach her how to make funerary offerings?” The dark robed man said.

With a slight nod of his head, Elidibus beckoned for (Y/N) to follow him. “It is traditional that one makes funerary offerings and says prayers for the departed, especially departed family members, like parents, grandparents, or spouses. That’s part of the importance of these ghost marriages - someone to see to the deceased’s comfort in the afterlife until they are reunited with their spouse and may move on.” 

He pulled another glass from the cabinet and filled it from the bottle. “I still make offerings for my wife, for example. Every year on her birthday and on our anniversary, as well as when I’m thinking of her. Do you have the tablet?”

(Y/N) pulled it from within her robes, and he nodded. “Let’s set it over here,” he said, moving to a corner of the sitting room. He took the tablet from her and set it standing on the low table, while the other Ascians gathered about to watch.

* * *

_”I’m sorry we couldn’t have this drink together like we had planned,”_ (Y/N)’s voice cut through Emet-Selch’s thoughts as he paced the foyer, and ignored his mother’s constant blathering about Persephone (she refused to call her _Zalera_ no matter how many times he reminded her that it was her title). He made his way back to the living room where he spied a glass of champagne before the tablet along with a number of other items seeming to pop into existence at random around it.

He sat on the floor before the tablet and stared at the offerings, trying to ignore the way the vague shimmer of her soul hovered next to him. They must have been teaching her how to send him things, because it was quite the profusion of gifts - three spiced buns, an orange, and a glass of Campanié. The last made him scowl, but then he remembered the promise they exchanged in Rak’tika, and found he could not be angry with (Y/N) - he had made the offer, after all.

Picking up the champagne he took a sip. “Tell me, (Y/N), do you remember anything of our life together?”

* * *

_“Tell me, (Y/N), do you remember anything of our life together?”_

Her head snapped away from the conversation and she fixed her eyes on the tablet. Emet-Selch’s voice was so close. The gathered Ascians gave a cheer of congratulations to see the champagne glass was empty.

Elidibus nodded. “It’s a good sign,” he said, but upon seeing her obvious discomfort he shifted closer. “Are you all right?”

“Sorry…” she mumbled. “For a moment I thought…” Her blush heated her cheeks. “I thought I heard his voice again.”

The Emissary took a deep breath and stood, turning to the others. “Our Zalera is probably tired. She is still mortal after all. We should adjourn for now. I have things I must still discuss with her privately.”

The others bowed their way out with promises to come check on her (save Nabriales, who made a scathing comment about being free of his obligations) and it was only after the door closed behind them that she said, “What have you left out, Elidibus?”

“Sending you dreams isn’t the only thing he can do,” he replied.

“It may surprise you,” she said, her voice flat, “but I had picked that up.”

“He can also haunt you. You may hear his voice, see him occasionally, sense his presence, that sort of thing. Especially when the connection is strong.” He moved about the room collecting the champagne glasses and the empty bottle and taking them to the kitchen.

“What strengthens the connection?” (Y/N) followed him, watching as the empty bottle vanished between his hands.

“Gifts,” he said, opening a panel in the lower cabinet to reveal a rack and putting the glasses on it. “Dreaming. Even thinking of each other can do it. I’m no expert on the Underworld like he was, but -”

“He was?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, quite.” He pressed the cabinet closed and reached over to a large black book, opening it up. “It was one of his quirks. Most of us study for ages to be able to discern the subtle distinctions between souls, but he was always sensitive enough to see it, even as a child.”

“You knew him, when he was young?” (Y/N) leaned against the counter.

Elidibus nodded. “So did you.”

“I had gotten the impression that I had _lived_ in ancient Amaurot, but I hadn’t realized we were friends.” She bit her lip before continuing. “Just now… I heard his voice ask if I remember our life together.”

He laughed. “If you’ll forgive me for saying so - you were more than friends. But I think that is a discussion you should have with _him.”_

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “How?”

“If you sleep here, he will be able to pull you into the Underworld through your dreams.” Elidibus tapped a few buttons on a black panel. “It does not necessarily mean he _will;_ Emet-Selch has always been a slave to his ego. But there is a chance.”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking down at her hands. “Given what I remember of his vanity, he would almost certainly come to see me just to preen and gloat.”

Something subtle shifted in Ardbert’s face behind Elidibus’s mask, and he put a tentative hand on her shoulder. “When it comes to you, Emet-Selch has always been _particularly_ stubborn.” He glanced at the clock on the far wall, then turned back to the black panel. Lifting it, he reached inside and pulled out a plate laden with food. “Here. It’s late. You should eat and get some sleep. Everything in this penthouse will answer to your touch.”

* * *

Emet-Selch sat on the desk in his bedroom as she slept, his hands folded in front of his face, thinking. Well, trying to think.

“What are you _waiting_ for?” his mother demanded through the shut door. He had insisted she not come in when he realized that the form in his bed was as she had appeared in Amaurot, and worse, _unrobed._ For all his mother had known her as a child, he did not want to violate ~~Persephone’s~~ (Y/N)’s privacy in such a way. 

“Mother, shouldn’t you go home?” he demanded, knowing it would be ineffectual. She had been over every evening since his death, trying to wheedle information about the world of the living from him - but he had presented a veneer of a much more hopeful situation, and not told them that the one responsible for the coming failure was none other than _his_ greatest failure as a man.

“I want to see little Persephone!” 

_“Zalera,”_ he corrected in irritation. “And would you _please_ go back to the living room and give me a few moments with her? There are things that I must say that you are not invited to hear.”

“All right, sweetie,” she replied, and he focused on the wall, watching the glimmer of his mother’s soul drift back down the hallway through it.

Once he was sure she couldn’t eavesdrop, he climbed off the desk and crossed the room, taking a seat on the bed beside her and lowering his hood. “Heartless wretch,” he grumbled to himself. 

The Emissary had always been a fan of cosmic jokes, and must be laughing his way around the Shards over what he had managed. The Architect had resisted the Death Seraph for millenia despite everyone in Amaurot, including themselves, longing to see them wed. Now he was dead and who did Elidibus bring to be his bride?

_Her._

How many times had he explained himself to the white-robed asshole in those ancient days? He had been clear as to the reasons he could love her but not marry her. Scowling, he manifested a glass of whiskey and drank it in a single go, then let the container evaporate between his fingers.

_“You should go to her,”_ his mother had said when he heard the bedroom door open down the hallway. She still waited for his father, and the countless lifetimes had softened her, but also made her far less patient with his nonsense. _”From what you have said, she does not remember anything. She has taken a great leap of faith for you, my darling Hades.”_

He thought on what he had told his mother, only a partial truth - that a cult had sprung up and summoned a counterpoint to Zodiark, and in the battle the remaining Amaurotines had lost their memories. That now the Convocation worked tirelessly to restore them to themselves. He had expected her to weep for his father, but instead she had placed her hand on his face. _“It must have killed you, Hades, to see your Persephone and she did not recognize you.”_

_His_ Persephone. As if he had the right to call her that after everything he had put her through. But now… he did. After all his vainglorious martyrdom and exultation in their suffering, this fate still fell upon them.

If he had known, he would have married her in Amaurot.

“I didn’t ask you to do this,” he whispered to her sleeping form.

“I’m _waiting,_ Hades!” his mother called from the living room.

“Sorry, Mother,” he yelled in reply. “I’ve got a bit of pain as I can’t seem to get you _off my back.”_

He heard her footsteps in the hall again and groaned to himself as she stopped outside the door. 

“Well, you wouldn’t need me off your back if you’d do what I asked,” she sniffed. “Honestly, not letting me welcome my own daughter-in-law to the family formally. After she’d been in this family informally for all those years. She deserves every accolade for putting up with you.”

“It isn’t the time,” Hades grumbled.

“Oh, when will it be the time? The day before she dies and the both of you vanish? When I have no time to enjoy seeing you two happy together at last?” 

“We won’t _be_ happy together,” he said. “She hates me.”

“Persephone felt many things for you throughout the years, Hades, but hate was never one of them. And considering she agreed to a ghost marriage to you? I don’t think she hates you now, either.”

He did not look up to watch his mother’s soul as she walked away, back to the living room, leaving him alone with (Y/N). What was he supposed to do? Wake her up and declare his undying love and gratitude and simper over her like they all seemed to think he should? Hardly.

Still… he couldn’t escape the nagging feeling that he owed her _something_ after all this time. A formal introduction to his mother would be short and simple, he supposed, and keep the latter appeased until he decided what to do.

Hades shook his head and stretched out beside her and regarded the form he had not seen for a thousand thousand lifetimes. Only he and those sensitive to souls could see she was incomplete, but he doubted anyone would comment. He had put around that things were very trying, and all of the Convocation had made great sacrifices in the fight to protect Amaurot. They would assume this was one she made.

His memories pressed close as he looked her over, the way her chest rose and fell with every breath, her face unguarded, and her red and gold hair splayed across his pillows. He reached out for her now, anxious and afraid and angry. She was never supposed to be here. He had specifically _not_ married her to ensure that she would not be responsible, in this life or the next, for the things he did for Amaurot. 

Emet-Selch decided he would find a way to kill Elidibus.

* * *

(Y/N) woke to a wall of moonlight made manifest. Silvery-white strands fell before her face in a waterfall, catching some light behind them that made them glow. She was unable to stop herself from reaching out to touch them, and she heard a familiar chuckle as her fingers threaded through the hair. 

Rolling onto her back, she found a face both familiar and not hovering over hers. “E-Emet-Selch,” she whispered, recognizing the gold eyes more than anything else. He still wore his black Ascian robe, but no mask, and his cowl was down.

At least there was no hole in his chest. That was decidedly a plus.

The strange look in his eyes hardened almost instantly, and he sneered. “What, no loving kiss for your new husband?”

“I…” she paused, and the room fell into breathless silence punctuated only by the thunderous ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall. They stared at each other, and for all that he looked different, the eyes were right, she knew it was him, and suddenly her throat was choked with all the things she wanted to say. The months of regret after his death, and the realizations she had in those dark and lonely nights on the Source.

The Ascian scoffed. “Don’t strain yourself trying to string a thought together, my dear. I only appeared because my mother is beside herself with a desire to meet you.”

“Oh.” Why did her voice have to sound so crestfallen? “Should I…?”

He sighed with the effort. “She’ll say some pretty words, but she knows you don’t remember anything about Amaurot, so don’t worry yourself overmuch.” With surprising confidence, he reached out and brushed her hair - wait, when had her hair become _red?_ \- back behind her head and secured it in a low bun. “I’m sure you have a thousand impertinent questions, but I will answer them only _after_ my mother has left.”

Climbing off of her, he pushed open the closet and pulled out a soft, silvery-grey robe and threw it at her. She pulled it on dutifully as she sat up, and he stopped in front of her. With a touch that was infinitely gentle, Emet-Selch tucked the strange curls into the hood as he pulled it up over her head. 

“Come on, then,” he said, pulling her to her feet, then he reached up, pressing his fingers to her temples. She felt the weight of a mask settle over her face, and Emet-Selch stared at her dumbly for a few moments, his gaze searching. The anxiety in his eyes sharpened into real sadness, a sense of loss she had only caught glimmers of in Norvrandt.

His voice was thick when he spoke again. “They don’t know what happened at the end. As far as anyone here knows, the cult summoned Hydaelyn, and the battle made everyone who was still alive and not on the Convocation lose their memories. And no one has died because they do not remember they can choose to. Before me, the only person who passed was Lahabrea, and he went straight with his wife to whatever awaits. They know nothing, and I beg you…” His voice cracked a little, and she reached out and placed a protective hand on his arm. After a moment's pause, another few ticks of that clock, he collected himself. “Please, it would only grieve them to know the truth, so I ask that you not say anything. As a favor to me.”

“All right,” she said. “Anything else?” 

“Your true name in Amaurot was Persephone, though you also answered to Zalera, as I did to Emet-Selch, and your title was the Death Seraph, as mine was the Architect. My mother will probably call you Persephone, as she knew you as a child before you had any titles.” He inhaled. “You should probably refer to me as Hades around her, but Emet-Selch around others unless you hear them call me Hades first. You should call my mother ‘the Water Bearer’ unless someone indicates you should do otherwise, though she would probably be over the moon if you called her ‘Mother.’ She always liked you.”

“The Water Bearer?” she asked in confusion. “Not some other -”

“It is an honorific. She served as Emmerololth before she retired, and the title is in recognition of her service to our people.”

Emet-Selch ran a hand through the loose hair hanging over his brow. “Other people will probably want to see you soon, but we can put them off for tonight. It’s rather impertinent of my mother to be here, even.” She giggled at his words. “Father would give her a piece of his mind if he were here. But come. Let’s get this over with.” He moved to the door and did not look back, obviously expecting her to follow.

When they came into the sitting room, (Y/N) saw a robed woman of middling height standing before the windows that looked out onto the skyline of Amaurot at night, with bright stars glittering down on the city that seemed so _alive._

(Y/N) wasn’t sure what kind of greeting she expected, but the excited squeal before she was suddenly enveloped in a tight hug, followed by intense sobbing was definitely not it. “Oh, Persephone,” the woman cried into her shoulder. “Finally. _Finally.”_

She met Emet-Selch’s eyes over his mother’s shoulder, and he was already opening his mouth to say something, but she patted the woman’s back. “I’m sorry I don’t remember you, but Hades tells me that you liked me.”

His mother’s crying redoubled, and she squeezed (Y/N) tightly. “Oh my goodness, my precious girl. All the things you must have been through. Oh, but how is your father? Your mother has been worried sick over you both.”

Hades opened his mouth to speak again, but (Y/N) said, “Deudalaphon was a great comfort to me through this wedding process.” She swallowed, noting the surprise in his eyes at her confident and honest response. “The other Convocation members had a bit of a party for me before I went to bed, and he was very pleased.”

“Oh, that is good to hear. Let me call your mother, and little Henne. They can come over and -”

Coughing abruptly got their attention, and both (Y/N) and the Water Bearer turned to face Hades. “Forgive me, Mother, I know you’re excited, but Persephone and I were married earlier today, and…” he ducked his head and mumbled, “I was hoping to have the rest of tonight alone with her.”

The woman blinked twice in confusion, then stepped back in dawning realization. “Oh…” She giggled. “Well then… tomorrow night.” His mother clutched Persephone’s hand tightly. “You will bring your new bride for dinner tomorrow. And I’ll invite Adrammelech and Henne, yes? Then you can tell us all about how things are now.”

“We look forward to it, Mother,” he said. “But please, Persephone and I have been apart for a very long time, and we are newly married.”

The Water Bearer gave a few more giggles as she stumbled over to the elevator, calling her goodbyes until the doors shut behind her.

Hades groaned and walked into the kitchen. “Wine?” he called over his shoulder. 

“I suppose,” (Y/N) said, taking a seat on the low-backed black sofa. 

He reappeared a few moments later with a dark bottle and two glasses and set them on the marble-topped coffee table. “You’re taking all this rather well.”

She shrugged. “Elidibus presented the whole ‘ghost marriage’ thing to me a few weeks ago, and did tell me a little bit today. He warned me that I might dream of you.” (Y/N) watched Hades open the bottle of wine and pour two glasses. “He also said that you and I had been ‘more than friends’ in Amaurot, but that I should talk to you about it.”

The sudden mention of their previous relationship must have startled him because he jerked, spilling red wine on the white area rug - which had been her intention. Her pleased giggle had him giving her a playfully murderous glare before snapping his fingers and the stain vanished from the carpet.

“Zodiark, you saw my mother’s reaction to our marriage,” he said flatly as he leaned back and sipped his glass. “Elidibus wasn’t wrong. You and I were childhood friends, and that relationship grew into a love affair as we grew up.”

“What happened?” (Y/N) asked, keeping her gaze locked on her wine glass. Why did the thought of having loved him in the past make her feel so… strange.

Emet-Selch exhaled and put one foot on the coffee table. “I never asked you to marry me. After the centuries stretched into millenia, you became restless, and we talked. I had no intentions of marrying you, specifically because I loved you too much to let you bear any punishment for my sins. It made me a powerful member of the Convocation that I was not held back by fear for my wife’s eternal soul, and though you ranted and railed at me for it, the events surrounding Zodiark only firmed my resolve that I had made the right decision.”

“Then Hydaelyn,” she said simply, and his mouth turned down into a frown.

“Then, Hydaelyn,” he agreed.

“Do you hate me for this?” (Y/N) gestured lamely towards the funereal tablet with both their names in its place in the far corner.

“You?” he chuckled. “No. I have never hated you. Not even when you killed me. If anything, I was glad then - that it was you that killed me - rather than anyone else. I had always wanted your face to be the one I saw at the end.”

“But it wasn’t this face,” she said, and touched the unfamiliar chin. “It was my face.”

“The eyes are the same,” he said softly, “and that’s what matters.”

(Y/N) took another drink of wine. “What happens now?”

“Now, I come up with a way to hide the fact that we’re not really together and everything that happened from our friends and family while I try to figure out how to kill Elidibus.” He rubbed his head and groaned.

“We aren’t really together?” She said, tilting her head. “Did I miss something or didn’t we get married earlier today?”

“You don’t actually want -”

“Hades,” she said, staring down at the wine glass. “Elidibus explained, in great detail, exactly what this marriage would entail. And I still chose it.”

“To save your precious reflections,” he scoffed.

She laughed. “I only wish I were truly that noble.” Lifting the wine glass to her lips, she drained it in a single swallow. “I did it because he told me that it was the only way to guarantee that I could see you one last time, even if it was only for a few moments before you abandoned me in hell.”

He didn’t have a good response for that.


	3. The Matter of Marques

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and (Y/N) continue their conversation, and remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the unexpected hiatus! The end of last quarter at work was way tougher than usual, so I needed to get some spoons back before I kept going.

_“Hades!” his mother’s voice called from the sitting room._

_He dropped the construct he had been working on - an innocuous looking red ball that would stain the clothes of his schoolyard bullies but no one else - and made his way to her side. Sitting across from his mother was another woman in a simple robe with an ornate mask. Beside her a child about his age, anxiously rubbing their feet together where they dangled off the edge of the couch._

_“Mother?” he queried anxiously, and the child - a girl, probably, by the way she folded her hands in her lap - bit her lip beneath her mask._

_“Hades,” she repeated, and put an arm around his shoulders. “This is my friend, Adrammelech. She’s Convocation-member Deudalaphon’s wife.” He knew without asking that the name provided was a title. As he was a child, he had not earned his own yet, and he knew his mother was called Emmerololth by people outside their family._

_“It is nice to meet you, Adrammelech,” he said obediently, and the other woman smiled warmly._

_“My sweet boy,” his mother said, and brushed a lock of his white hair out of his face before she tucked it behind his ear. “She and her husband have recently adopted a young child, and she will begin school with you tomorrow.” He looked at the girl again, and she fidgeted nervously. “We were hoping you might be a good friend to her, as she will need one as she adjusts to life in Amaurot.”_

_Hades said nothing, but nodded._

_“Persephone,” Adrammelech said to the girl and placed a hand on her back. “Would you like to go play with Hades while his mother and I catch up?”_

_The girl stood and turned to face Hades. Her face below the mask was terrified, and he thought about the bullies at school tomorrow. He knew what it was to be _terrified._ “Come on,” he said, motioning for her to follow. “I was making a construct, maybe you can help.”_

_She followed him through the twisting halls, back into his bedroom, her steps near silent on the tile. Though it was rude to stare, he stole a number of glances in a desperate attempt to learn more about this strange girl. He knew all the other children his age in Amaurot, which meant she had come from somewhere else. Somewhere_ beyond.

_“Have you been in Amaurot long?” Hades asked as he pushed shut the door to his bedroom._

_Persephone shook her head and took a position against one wall, adopting a strange pose. Most of the children at school would line up along the wall with their backs against it, hands hidden in their robes, leaning this way or that, with some type of movement or animation. But she just… froze. The girl did not lean on the wall or tilt her head off center. Her hands remained clasped in front of her, out of her robe so they could be visibly seen._

_He let his head fall to one side. “Why are you standing so weird?”_

_“It is imperative that I make a good impression,” she said; they were the first words he heard her speak, and for some reason that made him feel victorious._

_Grinning, he said. “Well, you did. Our mothers want us to be friends, so…” he stuck out one hand. “I’m game if you are.”_

_Her mouth opened in a little ‘o’, and she brought up the wrong hand, instead placing it in his and watching him expectantly._

_“I was trying to shake your hand,” he said lamely, lifting and lowering hers in their awkward grip. “What were you trying to -”_

_“Forgive me,” she interjected, trying to tug her hand away._

_“No,” he said, squeezing her fingers lightly. “I was trying to learn how you expected to be greeted. Here in Amaurot, we do this.” He brought his other hand up and held hers, shaking it up and down. “But you expected something different.” He returned their hands to their original position. “What was it?”_

_“Emissary Elidibus said I am Amaurotine now, and I should forget -”_

_“I won’t tell.” This Persephone was a curiosity, and he was desperate to know her secrets. “On Amaurot, I will not tell.” It was the most sacred vow he knew._

_She peered at him closely, her eyes invisible behind the black lenses of her mask, though in this moment her face seemed almost owlish. When she did speak, her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Back there… a boy would do this,” She flipped their hands so that she was grasping his, and brought it to her lips with a stately bow._

_He stared, befuddled and confused. “And what would the girls do?”_

_“Kiss my hand, and I will show you.” He did, though his bow was far more clumsy than hers. Persephone didn’t comment, but she did curtsy, catching the edge of her robe between two fingers and holding it out._

_When they straightened again, he squeezed her hand and smiled, giddy with excitement. “You’re from across the Sea.”_

* * *

Still at a loss after her confession - that she had considered an eternity in hell worth seeing him again - Emet-Selch changed the wine in his glass to something far harder and took a sip. She had that same owlish expression she’d always worn when she thought in his direction, both when they were together in Amaurot and in the lifetimes he had loved her since.

“How long do you plan to stay in Amaurot?” he asked.

“I don’t know how this dreaming works, so… I don’t know?” (Y/N) shrugged and gestured toward the apartment and he realized his mistake. 

“No, allow me to clarify - how long do you intend to stay in the Amaurot in the Tempest? Until you begin your adventuring again?” 

She sipped the wine, pulling her legs up against her chest beneath the robe. “I don’t really know. Something terrible will happen, I’m sure, or I’ll be requested by someone to attend some function. They know how to find me; I have a link pearl. When the time comes they will call for me and I will go. Until then, I guess I was planning to stay here.”

“Why?” he laughed. “You have no memories of this city.”

“But I do,” she argued. “It’s where I learned about you.”

“Stop that,” he snapped. 

“Stop what?”

He glared at her out of the corner of his eye. “Being kind to me.”

“You’re my husband, aren’t you?” That same devilish smirk that had always accompanied what she considered argument-winning points was evident on her face again. 

Hades snapped, “Not by choice.” The moment the words were out of his mouth he knew it had been the wrong thing to say. The tentative joy and playfulness that had been growing between them fizzled out as her smirk vanished and she looked away. He took another sip of his liquor and groaned. “I’m sorry. You do not deserve to bear the brunt of my frustrations. Of anyone involved, you have done nothing to warrant this.”

 _“I’m_ the one that killed you.” 

“That’s irrelevant,” he said. “You are Persephone. The end of my life is the _smallest_ of concessions you can ask of me for what I put you through.”

“Refusing to marry me?” (Y/N) huffed and pushed the cowl off her head, revealing the mass of copper curls. “I don’t remember who I was, but I’m sure you had your reasons. Besides, you’re right. You _didn’t_ ask for me. You asked for literally anyone. You would probably be more pleased if Y’shtola were -”

With a sharp crack of laughter, he shook his head. “Oh no, I’d never have woken that woman here. Besides,” he looked over at her, watching as she pulled the mask away from her face. “The idea of anyone else as my wife feels _wrong.”_

“You were content to ask Elidibus for that,” (Y/N) said. “And you said yourself, you’ve been married countless times.”

“Only to you,” he argued, and when her eyes widened in surprise he leaned close to her, brushing the back of one long golden claw against her cheek. “Don’t misunderstand, (Y/N). Every wife I have had - in Garlemald, in Allag, in every other Empire I have ruled - every last one has been one of your shards.”

“If the idea of having anyone else as a wife is wrong, why did you ask Elidibus to make sure it wasn’t me?” Her question was fair and exposed the circles his mind was going in. 

“Because I don’t want you to suffer for me!” he shouted. It was his own damn fault for loving a counselor, but the way she saw through his games, even sundered, enraged him.

“I was suffering for you long before you died!”

Hades had no defense against that bitter truth and decided not to seek one out, instead opting to dig his nails into her hair and pull her lips to his. Zodiark, but she tasted just the same. He yearned to indulge - to forget everything that had happened and let himself live in the fantasy that he had never broken her heart - but she remembered none of that idyllic bliss they had shared. For (Y/N) this was all fresh; things that had been left unspoken for millenia would have to be said and experienced anew. 

When they finally parted her mouth and cheeks were flushed, and she stared at him in surprise. 

“I suppose you have a point,” Hades admitted. “But I still think we should take things _slow._ You did just kill me recently.” He said the last with a playful smirk - hopefully she would see there was no ill will there.

“And you are tempered,” she added, pressing her forehead against his.

“Were,” he corrected. “Not are.” 

(Y/N) blinked in surprise. “What?”

“Come now,” he scoffed. “Surely you’ve realized? I was tempered by Zodiark, a Primal of Darkness. You pierced the very _core_ of me with a blade of Light. It killed me, yes, but also set me free.”

“But I just heard you invoke the name of Zodiark,” she said stubbornly.

“As an expletive,” he chuckled. “Old habits die hard.”

“Maybe taking it slow isn’t a bad idea,” she conceded. “I told myself that if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right, not the bare minimum - but I also don’t remember the history between us.”

Sipping the last of his drink, Hades saw an opening that he was not a good enough man to ignore. “Still, the others are going to expect a bit of physical familiarity between us tomorrow, so we should at _least_ try not to look like awkward teenagers in front of them.” Pulling himself to his feet, he flicked his fingers toward the small orchestrion against one wall and offered his hand. “Dance with me.”

After taking a steadying breath, (Y/N) set her own glass down and took his hand. He smiled before pulling her closer, moving his other hand to her waist. As they swayed quietly to the music his face grew somber. “I never thought I would have this again.”

(Y/N) smiled and squeezed their clasped hands. “And whose fault is that?” she asked tartly.

He grinned. “Mine as always, my dear.” He released her waist and pushed her away only to pull her back with a spin. Though he knew she was unfamiliar with this particular dance, her familiarity with the pillars of the art helped her slip easily into the steps. “I find it behooves me to ask - what would you prefer I call you?” Hades tilted his head, hoping she could read the honest curiosity in his question. “(Y/N), Persephone, or Zalera?”

She glanced to one side. “What would you prefer I call _you?”_

“Well,” he said as he took a few steps back and pulled her into the more open area of the foyer. “Solus, Hades, or Emet-Selch… Solus was an affectation - a face and name I used to make myself fit into your world. Emet-Selch was the tempered Ascian that harangued you across the First. Hades was the fool Amaurotine who loved Persephone but was so very sure he knew what was best for her.” He shrugged. “I have been all three in my time but names are important; they are a magic all their own, that shapes and defines what something is and the associations you have with it. I will let you choose what you call me, my dear, and thus define who and what we will be to each other.”

Letting her head fall to his shoulder, she said nothing for a few minutes, thinking about it. He was content to let her think instead just closing his eyes and remembering a time when he took her presence in his arms for granted. As the second song began, she said, “I think (Y/N) is like Marques.”

“Marques?” he asked in confusion, looking down at her.

She offered up a winning smile, the one that had always gotten her her way. “Do you remember Cid?”

“Cid?” He furrowed his brow. “The engineer? Cid nan Garlond?”

“Just Cid Garlond now, but yes.” She leaned into his grip as he turned her. “Did you know he lost his memory in the Calamity?”

“No, I didn’t.” His eyes tracked her warily as he tried to suss out where she was going with this.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I went looking for him, because we needed his help. But it seemed he had just vanished without a trace. It was only after some careful digging that I learned he was living in a church in the Thanalan as a hermit named Marques.” 

(Y/N) smiled up at him. “He wasn’t any _less_ Cid just because he was Marques. He just didn’t remember being Cid, and as his friend, it was my job to help him remember.” She swallowed. “Just because I don’t remember being Persephone doesn’t mean I am not her. I’m just (Y/N) too, for a little while. And as my husband and my friend, it is your job to help me remember.” She tilted her head and looked at him appraisingly. “Unless you don’t think you’re up to the challenge?”

He turned her under his arm and dipped her with a playful grin. “I’m _Emet-Selch,_ my dear. There is no challenge in existence that is beyond me.” As he lifted her back up, the song came to an end, and he kissed her again, splaying the fingers of the hand at her waist against her back and pulling her against him.

At her gasp she could feel him smile against her lips. “We’re taking it slow, love.”

“Right,” she whispered.

“And you should probably get some real sleep. In case you’re unaware, you’re not actually resting when we’re together here.” He withdrew from her slightly, releasing her, but she could see the way his hands twitched, wanting to reach for her again.

“What about you?” Some small part of her enjoyed the way he tried to keep his desires under control.

“Oh, I’ll probably finish off that bottle of wine and brood at the window until daybreak, my dear, then sleep away all the hours until you return to my side.” (Y/N) couldn’t help the smile his words elicited, and buried her face in her hands to hide the blush.

“How do I go back?” she asked, instead.

“You go to sleep. When you’re ready to wake, you’ll wake there.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “Very well,” then headed for his bedroom and counted down from three in her head. 

A heartbeat after she reached one, he said, “Would you like some company?”

“While falling asleep?” She feigned innocence.

“Well, I…” He scratched the back of his head, and she had to bite her lip to hide her smile. She had never thought she might make him nervous. “When we were children, we used to have sleepovers all the time. They never really stopped, they just…” he trailed off.

“Became sexual?” she supplied.

He chuckled. “Yes. Though long after we both realized that was what we wanted.”

“Come on, Hades,” she said lightly, and he followed her to the bedroom. “Do I have any pajamas here?”

The Ascian gave her a roguish grin. “You usually sleep nude.”

She could sense the teasing - he expected another blush, or deflection - but she decided to give back what she was getting. “Oh, good to know some things never change,” she said, then began pulling off her robe over her head. 

When it hit the floor she looked up to see him with his back to her, twisting his fingers anxiously in the ends of his silvery-white hair. “You have a collection of nightgowns in the bottom drawer on the right-hand side.”

“That’s all right,” she said, pulling back the blankets and climbing beneath them. “I prefer to sleep nude.” 

“Zodiark,” he groaned, and a moment later was stretched out on top of the blankets beside her. 

The two of them remained in silence for a few minutes, until she worked up the nerve to speak again.

“Hades?”

“Persephone?” He spoke her ancient name like a prayer, as if he was afraid of incurring her wrath for daring to be so familiar.

“Will you tell me something about our life together, in Amaurot?”

“What do you have in mind?” Rolling onto his side, he watched her expression.

She picked up a few strands of his hair and twirled them around her fingers, just as she had done when they were lovers long ago. “A memory that is precious. Something from early on, before everything went bad. Something happy.”

Hades understood what she was really asking for: a sign of vulnerability between them, a taste of the intimacy they had shared before she had left him. “How about the way we became friends?”

Persephone graced him with a small smile and nodded. “That sounds like a good place to start.”

* * *

_Hades scowled at the ground, nearly running to keep pace with his mother’s quick, irritated steps. “I know those boys have been cruel to you, sweetie, but you should not have told her.”_

_“You asked me to help her! Warning her about bullies is helping her!” he argued._

_“Warning her, yes; telling her they have harmed you? No.” His mother’s stern glance made him lapse into silence, the break in conversation allowing him to finally hear the distant cries._

_“Don’t touch me!” Persephone’s voice was distant, barely an echo on the wind, coming from the residential tower they approached. “None of you may touch me! I forbid it!”_

_His feet were moving before the rest of him, and Hades scrambled up the steps and between two adults who were heading inside, through the open door and into the lobby. He hammered the elevator call button repeatedly until his mother caught up and took his hand. “We’re going, don’t worry.”_

_“What happened?” he demanded. “She was fine! She -”_

_The elevator doors opened and she tugged him inside, refusing to answer until the doors were closed and the voice said, “Greetings, Emmerololth. What is your destination?”_

_“Deudalaphon’s residence,” she said crisply, then turned to her son as the elevator started to rise. “Hades, my sweet boy. Do you remember what happened at school today? What happened in the Atrium?”_

_“Yes…” his voice was slow and uneasy. He and Persephone had unleashed the ball-construct they had made in the Atrium just after lunch. They had been called to the headmaster’s office toward the end of the day, but then he was sent away again not long after, without seeing either the headmaster or Persephone. He had thought one of their parents had intervened, but now…_

_The elevator dinged quietly and the doors opened on utter chaos. Persephone was plastered to one wall, her robe rising and falling quickly with her panicked breaths. “None may approach me,” she shrieked, her voice high and imperious. “You are not permitted to lay hands on me!”_

_The air in the room hummed with Creation as Persephone’s terror caused her power to manifest chaotically, ephemeral phantoms there and gone again in moments. Adrammelech was barely keeping the structure under control while Deudalaphon held up his hands gently. “We’re not trying to hurt you, child. I just want to heal the -”_

_At the use of the word ‘heal’, Hades' eyes shot back to Persephone, and he noticed the familiar red lines, some trailing blood, across her knuckles. He may have been sent away unpunished, but she had not been so lucky. Comprehension had him moving again, and he tore away from his mother to move to the girl’s side._

_“Persephone,” he said, “I -”_

_Her head snapped to the side, and he found himself intimidated by a piercing gaze he could not see. The black lenses of her mask dominated his field of view, choking off the rest of his words just as thoroughly as the arms that were suddenly around him while she wept into his robe. “Hades!” she cried, clinging to him tightly._

_Deudalaphon moved cautiously toward them, but Persephone hissed, audibly, turning to put herself between himself and her father. “You may not touch us, I won’t -”_

_“Persephone,” Hades said softly. “Deudalaphon won’t hurt you.”_

_“The Amaurotines always lie to us,” she snapped, and it dawned on him that she was not rational in the moment. Some other, stronger terror than whatever had happened at school today had taken over. That was why his mother had brought him here - he was the only person she had not treated as a threat._

_“I’m not very good at healing,” Hades confessed. “Deudalaphon is better. But I will do it if you like.” He waited a moment, but she said nothing, so he continued. “I would feel more comfortable doing it if you would let me take instruction from your father on the matter, though, and that means letting him look at your hands, too. Is that all right?”_

_So slowly, she lowered her arms, and Hades glanced at her father, who seemed in agreement. “I won’t touch you,” he said, and sat on the floor before them so his head was at their level. “But I need to see the marks clearly so I can explain how to heal them.”_

* * *

_Persephone shut her bedroom door behind them while their parents spoke in hushed whispers down the hall._

_“What happened?” he asked her. “Why did the headmaster punish you?”_

_“The ball,” she said simply._

_“No, because then I would have been punished, too.” Hades watched as she climbed up on the pristine bed and began arranging the pillows into a small wall around herself. “What are you doing?”_

_“Hiding. And I made sure you wouldn’t be punished,” she said, then began creating more pillows to build the walls up. “Are you coming?”_

_“Coming where?” Even though he posed the question, Hades was already climbing onto the bed beside her, worming his way into her pillow-fort. To sit by her side. The pillows began to fall over on them, and he shook his head. “You’re doing it wrong. They need proper support.”_

_To demonstrate, he touched the pillows one by one, making them firmer, more like bricks made of padding than objects for comfort. Catching his meaning, she quickly mimicked the concept, and soon they were in a small fortress of cotton and fluff, with only a small window so he could see out._

_“Promise to tell me who comes?” she asked, making more of the fluffy pillows around them before she flopped down with her head on his legs. A single stray lock of hair, a twist of copper and gold, slipped out of the hood of her robe but she seemed untroubled by it._

_“All right,” he replied, reaching down and touching the strand. “Your hair is strange.”_

_“No, it isn’t,” she said. “You Amaurotines just hate things that are different.”_

_Hades twisted the curl around his finger and frowned. “I didn’t say I hated it. It’s just strange.”_

_Persephone yawned. “Why am I so sleepy?”_

_“You were scared. I’m always tired just after I’ve been afraid.” He let her hair go and patted her now-healed hands gently. “Will you tell me why you were scared?”_

_“No one ever struck me before,” she whispered. “Not even Mo-, I mean… the woman before my mother.”_

_He slid down, shifting around until they were lying face to face, clutching each other’s hands between them. “You remember her then? Your birth mother?”_

_Her anxiety was back. “Emissary Elidibus told me I_ must _forget.”_

_“I already told you I wouldn’t tell,” he said, but chose to press a different issue rather than pursue that one. “You lied for me, didn’t you?”_

_She nodded. “I told the headmaster you had just mentioned the boys were mean to you, so I did something about it.”_

_“Why?”_

_“I must take responsibility for all those in my care,” she said, but the cadence of it was wrong, like she was repeating words someone else had said._

_“Am I under your care, then, Persephone?” Hades giggled at her grim nod. “But doesn’t it seem you are under mine? Didn’t I heal your hands?”_

_“That’s different,” she insisted, then paused. “Fine. I guess we are under each other’s care.”_

_“We are friends, aren’t we?” he asked._

_“Yeah,” she agreed, her eyelids drooping unevenly as she started to slip into sleep. “I’ve never had someone choose to be my friend before.”_

_He thought about the way she had lied for him about the construct. No one had made her - no one had even suggested it. But she had._

_“No one has ever chosen to be my friend before, either.”_

* * *

Hades glanced over and realized she was asleep again, and felt strangely light as he got up and went back to the sitting room. He hadn’t thought about it in years, that first bit of mischief they had endured together. He had let the questions pass unanswered then, but now he was unusually troubled. What _had_ happened to Persephone before she was adopted by Deudalaphon? Where had she come from? Why had she been so terrified at the beginning?

None of it had mattered by the time they were grown, and she had never brought it up as something important, but now he wondered. She had mentioned Elidibus much in those early days, how he had counseled her, told her to forget and become Amaurotine. Yet when she had been reborn and heard Hydaelyn’s message, the man had been among the first to say she should be executed. In fact, it had led to more than one sharp argument between them over his millenia of marrying her shards. 

He sighed and drank from the wine bottle as he stared out at the city. It was irrelevant, for now. She had no way to recall that truth to tell him yet, not as (Y/N) or Persephone. He thought of the memory he had shared with her, and kicked himself. She had chosen him twice over, first to be her friend, and again to be her husband. He had only chosen her the first time, though now he was kicking himself for not having chosen her the second. And regardless of that, he should never have said it aloud. 

“Zodiark, Hades…” he grumbled to himself. “Watch your tongue before you destroy everything yet again with your ignorance.”

* * *

_(Y/N) was running, but she didn’t know from what, exactly. She was so small, and so slow, but she had been told to run and so she did, into the shadows of the forest. Momma had said not to look back, and she wouldn’t. Momma had said to forget, and she would. Momma had said she was a princess, and this is what a princess must do for her people._

_The great trees gobbled her up, dizzyingly tall and monstrous as they loomed over her, but they were far less terrifying than what she ran from. She prayed to the god that protected the royal family, to their great god Sabik. She knew better than to pray for peace, or safety, or protection, and instead prayed for the strength to face whatever her destiny would have of her._

_Henne, her friend from the palace, ran beside her. The girl was older - almost ten - and her long legs could have brought her to the trees far faster, but Henne wouldn’t abandon her. Not while the Amaurotines were in the atmosphere. Not while they were killing Momma and the guards and her tutors and the -_

_No. Momma had told her to forget, and she would._

_Together she and Henne plunged into the darkness, weaving amidst trees and rocks, but she didn’t know where they were supposed to go. A noise she’d never heard before, like a chiming, sounded overhead, and Henne grabbed her and pulled her against a tree as Amaurotines descended on long ropes like snakes from the canopy._

_The two girls covered their mouths, desperate not to be heard, and she shied away from their weapons. From the holes they left in reality, where everything that was just suddenly was_ not. _She prayed again, asking for strength, though this time she begged that if she was to die, she would not weep and beg for her life. She would die like Momma - protecting something precious._

_One of them, in white robes and a red mask, approached. “Is this her?” he asked Henne, though (Y/N) could still feel his unseen eyes on her._

_Henne nodded, “It’s her.”_

_The white-robed man knelt before (Y/N), taking both of her hands in his. “Hello, Persephone. My name is Elidibus. Did you know you’re a very lucky girl?”_

(Y/N) sat up in a cold sweat, back in her own body in the waking world. She stumbled to the bathroom, trying to remember where she’d heard that name before. Who, or what, was Sabik?


	4. Circumlocutions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades recalls falling in love with Persephone, and they must contend with her mother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I feel like it's a bit awkward, but in the end I could not come up with a better way to lay the pipe that will lead to things in the future.
> 
> The poem in the first part of this chapter is: "and you gave yourself to a lonely child" by [pencap](https://pencap.tumblr.com/) on tumblr.

_Hades lingered near the theatron, shuffling the tickets he had secured back and forth between his hands. Something had changed between them the last few months, but he didn't have a proper name for it and it irritated him. All he knew was after nine years of perfectly harmonious friendship, he suddenly couldn't look directly at her without his heart speeding and his breath coming fast._

_He had_ tried _discussing it with his parents, but they just laughed and told him he was a smart boy, he would figure it out. Which did little to help, as he and Persephone spent nearly every waking hour together and the answer still hadn't presented itself._

 _Thus, today's errand. He wanted the chance to observe her without being observed in turn, so he had arranged for them to have tickets to the performance of all three plays of the_ Prometheia _today. It would give him hours to dissect the situation and find his answer without the other duties of the Schola or their families pressing in upon them._

_Her footsteps were as familiar to him as his own, the light 'tp tp tp' up the stone steps calling his attention from the tickets in his hands to the robed figure approaching him. Her robe today was a pale silvery-grey, the color of the fog that rolled into Amaurot on chilly mornings. "Hades!" she said, and beneath her mask her mouth curved into a playful grin._

_"Persephone," he said, already opening his arms for their customary hug. He was reticent to be touched by others, even his family, but she had always been the exception, ever since he had been the only one allowed to touch her when she was upset or agitated. Like all people, they had built walls around themselves as they grew up, but on the way they had shown each other where all the doors were hidden, so he could bypass her emotional defenses as easily as she did his._

_It was worse, now. Now that her very presence destabilized him so. The weight of her body against his, the heat of her skin, the sound of her laugh; Hades was fourteen years old, and nearly a man. He should not have weaknesses like these, but no matter how he tried to fight it the only relief seemed to be when they were separated, and that he simply could not abide._

_"This was the best idea," she said, squeezing him tightly. "Mother and Father rarely let me go to the theatron without them."_

_"They are a bit overprotective," he said as she stepped away, but he did not relinquish her hand, and he was pleased she did not object. "But I find I cannot fault them for it. I would be cross as well if something were to happen to you."_

_She laughed and squeezed his hand. "Come on, let's get inside. We can make lunch while they prepare the skene."_

_He could only nod dumbly before he led her up the rest of the steps to the attendants who were collecting tickets, then to their seats - his mother's small box granted her for her work on the Convocation. She had only been too willing to give him the tickets when he'd asked the favor, smirking triumphantly when he said he wished to take Persephone to see the full_ Prometheia. __

_Now she settled in beside him in the box, already conjuring their usual repast with the reflex of habit. Down in the orchestra, poets read aloud their latest works, to be judged by the audience - an exercise to receive criticism so that they might improve. Hades chooses to ignore them, lifting a blueberry to his lips and watching the way she leans against the railing of the box, grapes coming to reality between her fingers before she presses them past her lips. The sight is captivating; doubly so when coupled with the occasional flash of her tongue. His inability to look away frustrated him._

_Persephone applauded appropriately as one poet stepped down and another stepped up, clutching their draft in their hands. "Sometimes I think it isn't you I fell in love with - it's the world with you in it." Hades watched as her fingers stilled, the beginnings of the grape she was forming unravelling into nothingness._

_"I fell in love with the way the ocean sounds when it speaks through your voice. I fell in love with the way the stars twinkle when it shines through your eyes," the poet continued, and the smile on Persephone's lips turned solemn._

_"I fell in love with the earthquakes in your fingers; and the supernovas in your blood; and the amethysts in your bruises; and the frost lining your lungs; and the mole tunnels in your bones; and the cemetery between your ribs; and the -" As the poet read their work, her posture changed - she curled in herself the way she always did when she was deep in thought about something that troubled her. Hades wanted to reach toward her, to take her hand like he always did, but the press of his unnamed confusion held him fast._

_"You made the tempests glorious, you know, you made the foxholes beautiful. You gave a scent to the scentless tulips, and you gave light to the moonless nights." In the orchestra, the poet sighed, and Persephone sighed in turn. "-and you gave yourself to a lonely child."_

_The other patrons applauded, and so did she, but her claps were light and quiet, and she did not look at him but up towards the bright blue of the early afternoon sky._

_Three more poets took their turns before his tongue finally unknotted itself enough that he could speak. "Are you all right?"_

_"Forgive me," she said, her head dropping from the sky to her feet. "I have been thinking a lot lately. About love."_

_"Oh?" his voice broke, and he hated it for the betrayal. Why was his heart racing?_

_Persephone chuckled. "You know I'm not like other Amaurotines, Hades. I try to pretend, but…" she licked her lips. "You know you are the only friend I've made here. I've started to realize what that might mean for me, beyond the next year. No one will ever love me."_

_Hades's heart stopped, but she continued speaking as if she didn't detect the distressing revelations to which he was being subjected. "Don't misunderstand - I'm sure_ someone _will marry me. Probably someone of middling ability desperate for the political connection to my parents and willing to overlook the fact that I am not a native Amaurotine."_

 _"That's not a_ flaw," _he objected weakly. "You know that I hunger for the small snatches of the stars beyond this system you grant me."_

_Her smile returned. "You are too kind to me, Hades."_

_"Hardly."_

_"Here, give me your hands," she said, reaching for him. Of course, he reached for her as well. He always had. To do anything else would draw more of her suspicion than the chance that she might notice the way his palms had broken out in a sweat._

_Her touch was cool and sure as it had always been when she turned his hands over in her arm, creating a strange round fruit that sat heavily in his palms. "Don't tell on me," she admonished playfully. They both knew he never would._

_"What is it?" he whispered._

_"My favorite fruit from there. We called them pomegranates," she said, not needing to specify where. "You open it like this." She pressed a long lacquered fingernail into the shell of the fruit, pulling it open to reveal a tumult of juicy seeds the color of wine clinging to the pale white flesh. Eagerly she plucked seeds out, pressing them to her lips as the dark juice slid down her fingers. The sight enraptured him, only to be outdone by the way she shoved her fingers in her mouth and sucked them clean without thought._

_Then the fanfare played announcing the first play was to start, and Hades knew he was doomed. She was Persephone - his only friend, his closest confidante - and if he told her of his recently recognized feelings, he would lose her forever._

* * *

"So, how is married life treating you?" Y'shtola asked, tracing her fingers along the mantle in (Y/N)'s penthouse. "I hope the Ascians did not give you too much trouble?"

The Warrior of Light lifted rummaged in a kitchen cabinet pulling out three plates. "They were fine, other than cruel comments from Nabriales. And it isn't nearly as lonely as I'd been led to believe."

"Oh?" she asked.

"Yes," (Y/N) placed one of the baozi Y'shtola had made for her on each plate, handing one to her before setting one on the low coffee table, then carrying the last to the small shrine in the corner. She performed a strange ritual, clapping and bowing, before she stood and returned to the couch. "It seems by agreeing to marry him, I agreed to be haunted."

"Now I have to hear more," the Miqo'te said.

* * *

A soft chime woke Hades from his nap, and he stumbled, still half-asleep, into the living room. He saw the shimmer of Persephone's soul, and reached out to pat her shoulder as he passed, only coming to full wakefulness when he realized he could not touch her, and the awful truth of everything returned. 

It was too easy to be lost in his memories, too easy to give in to the familiarity of having her by his side; and his feelings regarding her, his death, and their marriage were a confused mess. Things had been so simple when they were young. Even when she had left him, it was still simple. Now she had returned, she was his and he could not divest himself of her. Did he even want to? 

Memories of last night terrorized him while he lingered there, watching the aether that comprised her soul spin lazily through the vague outline of her body. The voices came to him quite suddenly as he focused, the conversation presenting a welcome distraction from his own troubled thoughts.

 _"... Exarch still doesn't like it. You could at least come back to the Crystarium, ease his concerns?"_ It was that woman's voice. Y'shtola. She was (Y/N)'s friend, but he still felt possessive toward his bride.

 _"Not yet. I have some things going on here."_ (Y/N)'s voice was firm. _"Besides, as much as I am his friend, I am not accountable to him for my actions. You, Tataru, the other Scions, of course."_

 _"But not G'raha Tia,"_ Y'shtola finished.

 _"No, not him,"_ (Y/N) agreed. _"Shtola… Something has happened with Emet-Sel…"_ His wife's voice started to fade again, and he scowled at the realization that he'd been lingering there, hanging on her every word. 

A second chime got his attention and he turned, heading for the door. "Who is it?" he demanded through the intercom.

"Adrammelech," the voice replied.

 _Wonderful,_ he thought, opening the door. _My mother-in-law._

He hadn't seen her in countless millenia, but Adrammelech, an unusually tall Amaurotine woman with a severe chin and mouth beneath her mask, intimidated him just as much as she had when he was a boy. She did not wait to be invited in, merely pushing past him as she strode purposefully into the sitting room.

"I'm not sure now is really the be-" he began.

She had never been one to let him speak for long. "So. You have finally done the right thing and married my daughter." The Wroth tilted her head, and he could feel her eyes on him even though he could not see them. "Who do I need to thank for teaching you some responsibility?"

"Whether or not our marriage is 'the right thing' is a matter that is up for debate," he said.

"I would _love_ to hear you try to argue that in the Hall of Rhetoric." Her smile was vicious.

"I won't bother, that's Persephone's arena, not mine." 

Her nails were long and sharp, lacquered and filed to look like rubies, and they drew attention to her hands as she unfolded them. "How do you intend to make amends?"

"Amends?" he scoffed. "I married her, didn't I?"

"Not by choice," she said. "Someone else arranged for my Persephone to become your bride. Someone else saw to it that you did what you _should_ have the moment you were named Emet-Selch." Adrammelech sniffed. "She had to learn of your appointment from Hythlodaeus, of all people; something you should have told her yourself, the moment you returned home! You should have walked in and asked for her hand right then, if not any of the million days you had spent together before that. You should have -"

"Yes, I am aware of what you think I should have done," he replied. "I've heard this from everyone a thousand times over. You got your wish. She left me!" Despite his attempts, Hades couldn't keep the bitterness out of his tone. "And if you want to thank someone, you can thank Elidibus! He's the one that got her involved with this mess. I was content to leave her be! I asked him for anyone _but_ her!"

The crack of Adrammelech's slap across his cheek shocked him out of his anger, and he looked up to see her standing over him, every inch the General she had been in life. "I have tolerated much from you over the years, Hades. I tolerated your obsession with my daughter, stealing her out of my arms when I'd barely gotten to know her. I tolerated your arrogance and entitlement when it came to her time and attention. I tolerated your choice to wait to marry her, even when she would come home to visit Deudalaphon and I, and ask me what I thought she was doing _wrong."_ He could see her shoulders rise and fall with the effort it was taking not to attack him. "But I will neither tolerate nor abide you implying that anyone else on your arm would have been a remotely acceptable substitute." 

She grasped the front of his robe, pulling him close enough that he could see his mask reflected in the black lenses of hers. Hades felt himself the fly, caught too deep within the spider's web as her long ruby nails tore the fabric in her grip. "You hurt my daughter - my only child - so deeply that she never recovered before my death; a death I took willingly, in service to Amaurot. Do you know what it was like to see you continue to flourish on the Convocation while she faded? For my husband to go in to work with you every day, knowing what you had done to our daughter?" 

Her teeth were too long, her furious smile far too wide. He wondered if she had found some way to murder the dead. "So, Hades. I will see you at dinner tonight. With my daughter. And you will tell me how you intend to make amends."

Adrammelech dropped him to the floor and stormed out, slamming the door to his penthouse.

* * *

"Good evening, Persephone," Emet-Selch - _Hades,_ she corrected herself - said as he held her hand in his. He pulled her to her feet and pressed his lips to her knuckles so she curtseyed in response. His smile, when it came, was strained. "We are having dinner this evening with our mothers and Henne."

"Henne?" she whispered, remembering that name from her dream.

"Right. Henne - her title is Serpens - she was the other girl brought to Amaurot from your homeland." He must have taken her surprise for a question. "You and she were close before. Though she was never formally adopted by anyone, she married Elidibus not long after she reached majority."

"I see. He did mention he still makes offerings to her." (Y/N) mumbled to herself. "Is there anything I should do to prepare?"

Hades shook his head. "The right side of the closet is yours. Wear whatever seems most comfortable. Since it's a personal visit, you won't need a formal mask, so any of the others will do."

"I have formal masks?" she asks curiously. 

"I'll show them to you sometime, but we must get going soon." He leaned close and kissed her forehead absently, as if his mind was on something else. Realizing what he had done, he froze in place and stared down at her. "Aah. I had forgotten -"

"You had no qualms kissing me last night," she said. "What's wrong?"

"Your mother," he said. "She despises me. Always has."

"Twelve," she laughed. "Never thought I would see the Great Emet-Selch intimidated by someone."

He pulled away and headed for the door, pausing to wink at her. "If you ever do get your memories back, you'll learn the person who intimidated me most was always you."

Her laughter followed him out of the room.

* * *

It felt good to walk the streets of Amaurot again, even moreso with Persephone at his side. Her robe this evening was the dark charcoal of a thundercloud, shot with silver thread that caught the streetlamps. Her hand in his seemed just as nervous as he felt, and as they passed the Macarenses Angle she frowned, coming to a stop. "Where's the Aetheryte?"

He blinked, then looked back at the plaza a moment before chuckling. "We can teleport directly to our destinations - we don't need them. Though it is considered rude and wasteful to teleport between places in the same city. Hence the walking." 

"Then what is that?" she asked, tugging him after her into the square to the glowing display.

"It is a map of this star and all of it's colonies," he explained, looking up at the stars and planets that hung in the air like snowflakes around the central marker of Amaurot, the whole thing spinning lazily. 

"But it's stars," she objected. "How do I zoom in so I can see _just_ Amaurot and its colonies?"

"Persephone, it's -" He started to object, then the source of her confusion dawned on him. "Amaurot is _this_ star," he said, gesturing to the center of the display. "All these stars around them are colonial star systems. We did not conquer one world, we conquered the galaxy. Everything beyond Amaurot is the Sea of Stars, over which we have dominion."

She stood in frozen silence, the display reflected in the black lenses of her mask as she stared, then murmured, "May her soul find peace in the sunless sea of heaven."

"What?" he asked. Hades knew the Eorzeans had not unlocked the secrets of travel betwixt the stars, but to hear her speak of them reverently - with near religious devotion - gave him pause.

Persephone shook her head. "Just something Runar said, a prayer for the departed." Bowing her head, she chewed her lip for a moment before stepping closer to him. 

He put his arms around her, pulling her close, and kissed her hair through her cowl. "We're going to be late."

"Do you care?" she asked.

His chuckle made her smile when he said, "No, not really. But your mother might have my head."

* * *

The elevator doors slid open, and three women's heads turned to face them. One of them she recognized, the one of average height in a dove-grey robe. Behind her, a short woman in black gasped, and the third, tall and statuesque and imposing in misty-grey pushed past Hades's mother and strode towards her with ever-quickening steps. 

"Oh, my little one," she cried. "My Persephone!" And (Y/N) found herself wrapped tightly in the woman's arms, crushed against her chest. Unsure of what to do, she settled on comfort, and hugged the woman back though much more distantly.

After a moment, Addramelech pulled away, and (Y/N) realized she had knocked both their cowls off in her hurry. Her unremembered mother's hair was long, dark, and stick straight. "Oh, forgive me," she said, fixing her own hood. She watched Hades as he reached over and straightened her own, tucking her hair back with infinite tenderness. "I know you do not remember me, but I was overcome."

"It's all right," she said warmly. "Better to know I have a mother who loves me that I don't remember, than no mother at all."

Hades raised an eyebrow, but she waved a hand, dismissing the implied question. Addramelech looked over at him and clicked her tongue. "You should thank this very star that she is happy and unharmed and -" she began.

 ~~(Y/N)~~ \- _Persephone,_ she reminded herself. _I'm_ Persephone _now._ \- patted her mother's arm gently. "Please don't harangue my husband. If you have a problem with him, you can discuss it with me."

Seeming to (momentarily, at least) accept the conditions, Addramelech returned her attention to her. "After _everything_ he's done - _everything_ he put you through - you expect me to just stand here and smile placidly while -"

"I _expect_ you to accept my decisions with a modicum of decency," she interjected, shifting her stance and placing herself between Hades and her unremembered mother. "You would not be the first Amaurotine I have ki-"

"Persephone," Hades said quietly, and she felt his hand on her shoulder. "It's fine. Your mother has been worried sick about you and Deudalaphon for thousands of years. Don't blame her for lashing out at the one person who had answers and would not give them to her."

"Still," Addramelech offered in amelioration, "I'm just glad to see some fire in her again, even if it's directed at me."

"Don't hog the children!" Hades's mother called from the sitting room. "Serpens hasn't even gotten to say hello yet."

"Oh please," the woman in black said, "How many times must I tell you to call me Henne?"

"At least once more." 

The group of them soon dissolved into easy banter while Hades led his wife to a small couch in the sitting room where they sat together, though (Y/N) could still feel everyone else's eyes on her more than she liked. "I'm sorry," she whispered under her breath as his arm settled around her.

"Don't be," he replied just as quietly. "I admit, it was a pleasant change of pace to be the one you were defending for once."

She giggled and looked over at him. "Don't get used to it."

Hades smiled unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a playful smirk, and he opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Henne's appearance nearby.

"I was hoping I might steal your wife for a moment, Emet-Selch." 

"By all means," he replied. "Far be it from me to deny her anything."

Henne beckoned her to follow, and so she stood and the two women headed out onto a large building that had an excellent view of the city. "Are you all right?" the Amaurotine asked.

"Of course," Persephone replied. "I'm still alive, so I can't complain."

"That's not what I mean," Henne said. "Elidibus still… he makes offerings, sends letters. And we see each other every year at the Magpie festival. I wanted to be sure you're _adjusting_ well."

"I am. I still have a lot of questions, but I'm sure I'll have answers to most of them, in time."

"That's good," Henne exhaled. "Do you have any questions for me? I assume he told you we knew each other before…"

"Before Addramelech and Deudalaphon adopted me," Persephone finished. "He said we came from the same place. Where was that?"

"Favolia - but don't tell Emet-Selch, it would only grieve him."

"Grieve him? Why?" She focused on the woman.

“You must understand, Persephone, you were very young when we met, as was I. We were both children. I don’t know how much of Amaurot's history, economics, and politics Hades has already explained to you." Henne worried the edges of her manicured nails, pearl-white with marbled veins of lilac and gold. "But the colonization of Favolia was violent."

Persephone looked over her shoulder at Hades, who sat in silence, staring off into space while their mothers spoke. "And from what I understand, he was a child when it happened."

"He was a child when it _started,"_ the other woman replied as she licked her lips. "But the planet's subjugation wasn't completed for decades after."

"Did he have a hand in it?" 

"Only at the end," Henne said. "It was how he skyrocketed within the Bureau of the Architect; he came up with a construct to contain the -"

"The Heart of Sabik," Persephone finished.

"You remember?" She took a step toward her.

"Not much." Persephone shook her head. "I had a dream about running through a forest and praying to Sabik last night, and I've encountered the Heart of Sabik independently in my journeys in…" She trailed off, unsure of what Henne knew, and what Elidibus may have told her. 

"In Eorzea," Henne offered. "He has spoken of you, often. Especially your knack for disrupting his plans." She giggled, a sign that there was no ill will there. "And I suppose Lahabrea didn't put it together, why using it to cast Ultima would not harm you."

"What about -"

"We don't have long before they start to question, and I have one of my own for you." Henne clutched Persephone's arm and turned her back toward the room. "Why did you agree to marry Emet-Selch?"

She smiled. "For those we have lost, and those we can yet save."

"Don't give me that platitude," Henne's voice was surprisingly sharp. "I want the truth. You were free of him. Finally. At Last. Why did you bind yourself again?"

"Because I fell in love with him," (Y/N) replied. "And I never had the chance to tell him before he died."

"Before you murdered him."

"That too."

Hades watched Persephone's demeanor shift from polite curiosity to guarded anger as she stood on the balcony with Henne. He almost went to intervene, but to his surprise she pulled away from the other woman and came inside, returning to her place beside him. He leaned close until he heard the gentle click of their masks touching. "What's troubling you?"

"We'll talk when we get home," she murmured. 

Home.

Persephone was calling their apartment home again, and even though she did not remember, it warmed him through.

* * *

Her drunken laughter echoed through the foyer as she stumbled out of the elevator and leaned on the wall. She lifted her feet at a time, tugging off the little black flats and letting them fall unceremoniously to the tile. "Who knew I'm such a lightweight in this body?" Persephone asked.

"Lightweight?" Hades was just as drunk and stumbled after her, toeing off his boots while he tried to remember anything in the face of her copper curls catching the moonlight that slanted in through the windows. "You drank a decorated general under the table, my dear. I don't think you need to worry about being a lightweight."

"I am used to drinking with Thancred," she snapped. "Three bottles of wine is hardly -"

"Wine?" he laughed. "That wasn't wine, that was flavored vod…" His thoughts trailed away as she shamelessly grabbed the robe and pulled it off her head, tossing it to the floor with her mask as she stumbled further into their penthouse in naught but her lingerie. "You mean to tell me you weren't wearing anything but your underthings beneath that robe?" Hades asked incredulously.

"I'm supposed to?" she asked, turning to face him. 

His hands reflexively found her waist and he pulled her close, tracing his nails over her skin. "If you don't want me to ravish you, I'd advise it." Hades's head was spinning with wine and desire and they way she had clung to him. 

"Sounds like I shouldn't wear things under my robes," Persephone replied, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing herself against his body. "Because I do want you to ravish me, Hades."

He chuckled and tightened his grip, lifting her into his arms before he gave up on walking and floated down the hall towards their bedroom. "How am I to resist a temptress who voices such lascivious desires?"

"Same way you resisted me on the First, I suppose?" Persephone whispered into the curve of his neck. "I've never been good at flirting."

"Liar." His retort had no accusation in it, only affection. "You used to talk circles around me and leave me fumbling to come up with witty responses fast enough. It took me ages to realize you felt anything beyond friendship for me." Hades set her down on the bed and brushed her hair back from her face before letting his fingers trail down to her shoulders, his heart screaming in his chest at having Persephone - not some pale shadow, but _his_ Persephone - by his side again.

She reached up toward him, but he shook his head. "We're both far too drunk, and you should sleep regardless. I want you to _actually_ remember the first time you'll remember."

"Will you stay with me, then, till I fall asleep?"

"Of course," he said, shucking his own robe, and the clothing beneath, to crawl into bed beside her. His wife came to his arms easily, pressing her face against his chest and throwing one leg over him, all the distance they pretended to forgotten in their inebriation. 

"Will you tell me more?" she asked, her lips brushing against his skin. "I want to remember."

* * *

_Four years._

_For four_ long _years, Hades suffered being desperately in love with Persephone, but too terrified to say a word. Beyond his anxiety over spoiling her friendship, there were her parents to contend with: Convocation-Member Deudalaphon and his wife, Addramelech, the Wroth._

_Worse still, they had graduated from the Schola, and now their prospective studies - her with the Hall of Rhetoric, he with the Bureau of the Architect - meant that his time with her was being whittled away. He fretted over it for an age before fortune granted him an unusual opportunity - a personal invitation to the wedding of Convocation-Member Elidibus and Persephone's one female friend, Serpens._

_Normally he'd be invited as part of his mother's entourage, so receiving his own invitation was unusual. Even moreso was the note, scratched out in a clear, professional hand. "If you do not have the courage, you will lose her." He wasn't sure who had sent it - perhaps one of the bride's friends? Someone who knew Persephone?_

_Regardless, the contents worried him._


	5. The Hairpin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hades and Persephone attend Elidibus and Serpens's wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is *mostly* flashbacks, with a few lead ins to other things. It's also shorter than the others, as I found the 5k word chapters were causing me to be too stressed when writing, so I'm adjusting back to 3k. You may notice that tags have changed - I'm going to be including 5.3 spoilers in this fic now!

_Persephone's heart hammered in her throat as she took the elevator in the Capitol to the Convocation chambers. She and Hades had separated five years ago, and though she still carried the title Zalera - an honorary title given to Emet-Selch's consort - she still felt she should not be going to that place._

_But the Emissary had summoned her, so she would go._

_She let out a breath of relief to find Hades was not in the main lobby, and the person manning the front desk conducted her quickly to Elidibus's office. He had no desk, just comfortable couches and chairs arranged in a circle as if to facilitate discussion. That was, after all, his calling._

_To her surprise, Henne was there as well, standing at the large windows looking out over the quiet interior garden the Convocation member's offices ringed. Persephone avoided going to her side, afraid if she got too close Hades might see her and they'd have another fractious confrontation where he begged her to come home yet refused to do the one thing she asked to make that possible._

_The Emissary must have sensed her discomfort, because he smiled beneath his mask and gestured to a seat across the small circle which Persephone took gratefully. "You wished to speak with me?" she asked._

_"Yes," Elidibus said. "First and foremost, my wife and I wished to see how you have been holding up? We know things have been… difficult, at least in recent years."_

_At the window, Henne made a scoffing sound before turning away. "Hades is -" Elidibus coughed softly, and she amended, "Emet-Selch is an idiot. He should have married you the instant you were both of age."_

_As she didn't have a response, Persephone glanced at the floor._

_"My love, now you've upset Zalera," Elidibus chided._

_"And I've told you - the fact that she still uses_ 'Zalera' _is part of the problem!" Henne snapped. "He had no right to saddle her with that appellation if he wasn't planning to marry her."_

_"I understand you disapprove, Serpens," Persephone interjected, "but I do still love him, even if he will not marry me. Our separation is my choice, because while I will love him until the end of my days, I will not allow him to disrespect me in this manner any longer. I only use Zalera because I have not earned anything else."_

_"What if there were another option?" Elidibus asked, tilting his head. "Would you consider taking another title, if one presented itself?"_

_"Perhaps." Persephone looked down at her hands and manifested a cup of hot tea. She could not bear to admit to them the truth - she still used Zalera as a sign to Emet-Selch that should he ever overcome his pride, she'd welcome him with open arms. "What did you have in mind?"_

_Henne took a seat beside her husband, who said, "A member of the Convocation has decided he wishes to set aside his duties so that he might focus on his family instead. Your name has come up repeatedly as a potential successor."_

_She felt her brow furrow in confusion. "Being on the Convocation does not preclude one from focusing on a family. My father -"_

_Elidibus lifted his hand to interrupt her. "One seat on the Convocation does."_

* * *

(Y/N) woke and stared at the ceiling, letting her thoughts about that dream and the night before tumble over each other in her head. She had long suspected she was the "fourteenth" the shades had mentioned - the one who had left the Convocation rather than summon Zodiark. Elidibus's words in her dream seemed to validate that. Moreover, evidence was piling up that she and Elidibus had some type of friendship or camaraderie outside of being fellow Convocation members.

She needed to talk to the Emissary, and more than that, she needed to get out of this apartment. She wanted to find the places her husband told her about, and see the city he had built for her before his end. 

The shades still lingered on the streets, and she thought back to what Alisaie had said that final day. _"Ryne and I tried asking about a cure for you. The problem is, these ancients didn't exist beyond Amaurot's 'today.' They will happily tell their own tales, but whenever we attempted to explain our situation, the conversation quickly became muddled."_

If the ancient Amaurotines wanted to talk about their present, she felt she could get much more information now that she had specific questions.

With that in mind, she dressed herself, and descended into the city. She approached a shade standing beneath a tree and lifted one arm to get his attention.

"Yes, little one?" The voice was a chiming that had become strangely familiar to her in the last few days. Now it seemed almost… feminine. 

Though (Y/N) had intended to ask for directions to the Emissary's penthouse, another question came out instead. "Can you tell me where I can find Convocation-member Deudalaphon's daughter, Zalera? I need her help."

* * *

The building itself was on the far side of the capital building, in a section of the city she had not explored before - (Y/N) had been forced to fly over in the Manacutter and lash it to the balcony before she climbed out and knocked on the patio door. After a few moments without an answer, she tried the latch and stepped inside. This penthouse was far larger than one she shared with Hades's ghost, but then again this one had ostensibly held a family once. More than the size, though, she was chilled by the familiarity.

She knew she had never walked these halls in this life, but every inch of the space seemed carved into her memory. Steps other than her own carried her to a back bedroom; by the time she pushed the door open, (Y/N) knew what she would find.

Tiny lights, flickering like stars, accented the ceiling and shimmered through sheer fabric draped over the canopy of the bed - a bed piled high with a monstrous number of pillows. And beside it on the bedside table, the mask she recognized as Hades's.

"What are you doing here?" (Y/N) whispered, then a moment later she remembered.

* * *

_"What are you doing here?" Persephone asked coldly, standing up from her bed as Hades teleported in. "I thought we agreed we were not to see each other now that I've left the Convocation."_

_"I know," he said, and it took everything in her to pretend not to notice the exhaustion and despair in his voice, or the size of the dark circles under his eyes as he removed his mask and set it on the bedside table. "But I had to come and see you one last time."_

_"Last…" she meant to say it mockingly, but she could hear the tears just as much as she could feel them, so she gave up on her pretensions. "What do you mean by last? You summoned Zodiark, didn't you? You've called for sacrifices twice -"_

_"And it still isn't enough," Hades whispered, stilling her tongue to silence. "Venat and their cronies have completed their task, and their Hydaelyn battles Zodiark, even now."_

_"What will you do?" her voice was a ghost of itself as she strode toward him. "The Convocation must -"_

_"The Convocation is out of answers. We need more time than we have." He swallowed and wrapped his arms around her as he had countless times before, all the hurt between them forgotten as they stared at each other. He finally whispered, "I'm sorry," before he lowered his head and kissed her._

_Persephone's fingers clung to his robe as she returned the kiss, a kiss that seemed to bring air into her lungs and clarity to her mind; being with Hades again restored all that she had lost in her despair. His hands were just as greedy, spreading possessively over her back as he pulled her closer. Their bodies knew this dance, one they had shared again and again as their millenia slipped by - soon their robes were discarded and they clutched each other beneath the makeshift stars._

_Afterward, as they cradled each other close, she ran her fingers over the broad planes of his chest and asked, "If I could give you more time, do you believe you could find a way to save Amaurot?"_

_"Yes," he said. "I could do it. It might cost everything, but I could."_

_She chuckled. "No mention of the rest of the Convocation?"_

_"I could do it alone if I had to - anything to save our people," Hades paused, and ran his fingers down the side of her face. "Anything to save you."_

_"Promise me, then -" Persephone demanded, looking up at him. "Once you have done it, once you have saved Amaurot and balanced the scale you're so concerned with - you will marry me."_

_"If we survive what is to come, I will."_

_She laughed at him and said, "I know the truth of you, Hades. If you let something as trivial as my death stop you from having me, then you never really loved me at all."_

* * *

"So, what plans have you made for me tonight?" the Warrior of Light asked, rolling over to look up at her husband. The vision from earlier that day was still fresh in her mind, but so too was his unfinished tale from the night before. She wanted to ask about both, but some secretive part of her enjoyed knowing he had made that promise to her - that he _would_ have married her, if the Ascians had succeeded. 

Hades shrugged. "Nothing, really. I had hoped we might spend a quiet evening in, just you and I." 

Let it never be said that Hydaelyn's Chosen feared playing with fire. She rolled into his arms and twisted her fingers in the front of his robe just as Persephone had in the memory. She realized his responses were muscle memory as his hands pressed against her back and his mouth descended on hers only to pull away a moment later and ask in confusion - "What? How did -"

"I may have been getting some memories back, though for the most part, they are…" She looked away for a moment, "After."

"Aah." He said nothing more, but his face was a mask of consternation.

"That's why I want you to tell me about when things were good - when you loved me," she finished.

"I never stopped loving you," he corrected, and Persephone could not help but notice his hands had not moved. "Even to the end, and after. I have always - _always_ \- been -"

She placed a finger over his lips. "I know. Now keep telling me how we fell in love."

* * *

_The day of Elidibus and Serpens's wedding, Hades was a bundle of nerves. Quiet inquiries had told him that Persephone would be serving as one of the bride's attendants at the event, so he would have to make any moves he planned there. Worse still, despite his conviction that something had to be done, he still had no plan._

_He'd been going around in circles since the invitation arrived, trying to decide the best way to go about it - every attempt he had made to reach out to her before the wedding had been rebuffed with how "busy" she was._

_And now here he was, standing in the park an hour before sundown, wearing a formal suit under his robes in preparation for the private party in the Emissary's penthouse afterward. No plan, not even poetry, but he promised himself, by the end of the night, he would have declared his affections to Persephone, for good or ill._

_A murmur echoed through the crowd and he turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of Persephone before propriety demanded he focus on the bride and groom. He saw her for only a moment, her familiar chin beneath a polished gold mask. Hades felt her eyes land on him for a moment and one corner of her mouth lifted before she turned back towards Henne._

_The ceremony itself was short and simple, as were all Amaurotine weddings - no vows were spoken, for the alchemy worked on the couple's souls was more a permanent promise than any words they might exchange. After this, they would both be inseparable in the minds of the people of Amaurot, both the living and the dead._

_Hades watched curiously as Emet-Selch, Elidibus's attendant, took Persephone's hand and together they made tea and tea cups for the bride and groom - one emblazoned with the sigil of Elidibus's seat, the other emblazoned with twining vines and flowers. It made him feel strange to watch Persephone work a construct with someone other than himself, and though he knew it was a great honor for her to serve as the bride's attendant and to do a working with the Architect, some small part of him begrudged every place the old man's hands touched hers._

_The couple exchanged cups of tea, and bowed their heads low together. As one, the attendants turned their backs, giving the bride and groom a moment of privacy - this moment where they would remove their masks and reveal their faces. Though commonly one had seen their spouse's face plenty of times before the ceremony, it was an old tradition, and one long held, that this was the first "official" time they would see._

_"Let us cast aside titles and pretense," they said together, reciting the only words a wedding ceremony required, "and reveal our true faces to one another."_

_He could not help but notice the way other married couples in the crowd seemed to cling a little tighter to each other in the pause that followed. More than that, he tried to imagine this same moment with Persephone, but for all that had passed between them he realized he had never seen her unmasked face. Before he could begin to wonder why, the crowd shifted back to face the couple and he followed suit to find Elidibus and Serpens clutching each other's hands._

* * *

_As everyone prepared to head to the Emissary's home for the party, Hades was surprised to find Serpens had slipped over to his side. She lifted one finger to her lips and whispered, "In a few minutes, she will return looking for my hairpin. How convenient that you have found it, hmm?"_

_She pressed the pin in question into his hand and though the bride had indicated he should be silent he still said, "Why are you doing this for me?"_

_Serpens chuckled. "I do nothing for _you,_ Amaurotine. I do this for Persephone." She was gone before he could ask another question, and he tucked the hairpin away in his robes while the other guests filed out. _

_"Are you coming?" his father asked._

_"I just need a few moments," Hades replied. "I've come to a decision about something important and I have to find the right words to explain it."_

_Famfrit grinned and glanced over his shoulder toward the couple leaving - more specifically, to Persephone where she stuck closely to Serpens's side. "I wonder what that decision could be," he said, then waved a hand playfully as he walked away. "Don't be too late."_

_It happened just as the bride had said it would - after the crowds had gone, the soft tap of Persephone's familiar steps heralded her return._

_"Oh, Hades!" she said as he turned to face her. "You're still here!" That smile again, the one he could not live without, played across her lips. "Henne apparently lost a hairpin when she took off her mask for Elidibus and she sent me to find it. Would you help me look?"_

_"Of course," he said, and walked toward the center of the park where Elidibus and Serpens had been. "What did it look like?"_

_"Gold, with a few pearls on it. It was one of the earliest gifts the Emissary gave her, so you know she'll be distraught if we don't find it," Persephone giggled before she knelt on the grass to search._

_He knelt beside her, their heads dipped low as he tried to come up with what to say. After a few moments of awkward silence he blurted out, "I've missed you."_

_Her fingers paused their movements before she said, "I'm not the one who pulled away, Hades."_

_Unable to look at her, he stared at the grass and asked, "What do you mean?"_

_"You're the one who stopped…" Persephone sighed and sat back on her heels beside him. "These past few years. First you stopped being as affectionate. You became reticent to hold my hand or hug me; you stopped sleeping over. You stopped coming to see me unless you had a _reason._ I don't know what I did to upset you but you seem unwilling to tell me and -"_

_"Persephone, I'm in_ love _with you." Hades was sure he was going to throw up the contents of his stomach on the heels of those words, especially as the silence that followed them stretched. "I've been in love with you for years - I only realized it the day we went to see the Prometheia. Since then I have been doing my best to keep you from noticing."_

_"Oh Hades," she said softly. "My precious idiot."_

_"I know you do not reciproca-"_

_"Enough." Her voice was commanding, even around her laugh. "I've been pining for you for an age."_

_"What?" he asked incredulously. "But… you, you're… I…"_

_Another pair of footsteps interrupted the conversation and a dark robed individual appeared nearby. "Oh! There you are."_

_"Hythlodaeus," Hades said in exasperation. "As usual your timing is _impeccable."_ He could only hope the sarcasm would get the point across that the other man should leave._

_Instead, Hythlodaeus came closer, looking them both up and down before he turned to Persephone. "You must be Deudalaphon's daughter. Hades never stops talking about you."_

_"Could you not?" He snapped while she giggled behind her hand._

_"Well, we should all be going, Serpens is asking after you." Of course Hades's coworker seemed unperturbed by his irritation._

_"I haven't found her pin yet," Persephone confessed._

_"I have it," Hades replied, holding it out in his hand. "Please," he turned to face her, ignoring the way the other architect seemed keenly interested in their conversation. "Let me be your date for the party."_

_Soft pink crept from beneath her mask. "Only if you dance with me."_

_He took her hand and found that some things never changed. Bowing low, he placed a kiss on her knuckle. "I wouldn't have it any other way, my lady."_

_When he stood again, she was beaming._

* * *

_Hades and Persephone had ditched their robes at the entrance to Elidibus's penthouse and danced until their feet hurt; together, they stumbled out onto the balcony while everyone still celebrated inside. The champagne had her giggling and he loved the way she clung to the front of his suit almost as much as he loved having her in his arms again._

_"I fear we have had far too much to drink," he confessed, brushing his nose against her ear as he spoke. In truth, he was only on his second glass as he'd spent most of the evening being enraptured by her hair, a bright red pile of curls that seemed to burn like the sun amid the monochrome colors that made up the common appearances of true-born Amaurotines._

_"Well, drink is a good excuse to make stupid decisions, like falling in love with some off-world girl," she said, looking down at the city lights._

_"I'll have you know that I was completely sober when I fell in love with you, and it wasn't a decision at_ all," _he scoffed. "Nor was it stupid. I loved you as a friend since we were small - I only came to desire you once I was old enough to understand what that kind of desire was like."_

_Persephone tilted her head and looked up into his face. "You desire me?"_

_"Of course," he scoffed. "Who wouldn't? You are exquisitely beautiful. I just have the advantage of knowing who you are beneath those copper curls."_

_"You've never seen my face," she argued, "You don't know I'm beautiful."_

_Maybe it had been too much to drink, for the alcohol lent courage to his tongue he normally lacked. "Then take off your mask, Persephone, and prove me a liar, if you can," Hades taunted._

_"You first," she challenged. "Unless you're too afraid to be seen and judged."_

_He snorted. "You've been judging us all from the day you arrived." With that, he pulled away his mask._

_Her mouth opened slightly as she reached up and touched his cheek, his mouth going dry at the gentle caress. "You didn't tell me your eyes were so beautiful," she whispered. "I've never seen eyes that were gold before."_

_"It's uncommon, but not unheard of," he replied, then blushed at the intimacy of her touch. "I take it you approve."_

_A radiant smile graced her features. "I do."_

_"Good." He hadn't realized he had worried she would find him undesirable until she had voiced her approval. "Your turn, my dear."_

_She laughed and reached for her own mask, and Hades found himself lost in wonder as he drank in every forbidden inch of her face in the moonlight. He distantly heard something clatter to the ground, but ignored it in favor of putting his arms around her and pulling her close, only closing his eyes to stop staring when his lips at last found hers._

_Hades could feel Persephone's fingers tangling in his hair, her nails scratching his scalp as she pulled him closer. He broke for air as his hands climbed up her back, and all he could muster was a desperate_ "Please." __

_He wasn't even sure what he was begging for, but he went back to kissing her once she breathed out, "Yes."_

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my work and would like to hear more about what I'm up to, feel free to follow me on Twitter: [@amandaterasu.](https://www.twitter.com/amandaterasu/)
> 
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> 
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